Timothy Winters

Timothy Winters comes to school

With eyes as wide as a football pool,

Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:

A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.

His belly is white, his neck is dark,

And his hair is an exclamation mark.

His clothes are enough to scare a crow

And through his britches the blue winds blow.

When teacher talks he won't hear a word

And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird,

He licks the patterns off his plate

And he's not even heard of the Welfare State.

Timothy Winters has bloody feet

And he lives in a house on Suez Street,

He sleeps in a sack on the kitchen floor

And they say there aren't boys like him any more.

Old man Winters likes his beer

And his missus ran off with a bombardier.

Grandma sits in the grate with a gin

And Timothy's dosed with an aspirin.

The Welfare Worker lies awake

But the law's as tricky as a ten-foot snake,

So Timothy Winters drinks his cup

And slowly goes on growing up.

At Morning Prayers the Master helves

For children less fortunate than ourselves,

And the loudest response in the room is when

Timothy Winters roars "Amen!"

So come one angel, come on ten:

Timothy Winters says "Amen

Amen amen amen amen."

Timothy Winters, Lord.

                  Amen!

To quote Causley himself "People always ask me whether this was a real boy. My God, He certainly was. Poor old boy, I don't know where he is now. I was thunderstuck when people thought I'd made it up! -he was a real bloke. Poor little devil."http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=124