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Douglas McClarty

Rookie - 20 Points (Northern Ireland)

The Wild Home And Colonial Boy

At the age of eleven I was,
the Home and Colonial boy
I got ten bob a week
And a lovely green bike
To deliver their groceries
By day and by night
I delivered in snow,
hail, storms and rain
Even to the out backs
In the town of Coleraine
To Fernlester, the Heights
and the most of Calf lane
I was the colonial boy
without the fame.
Wild I might have been
I was just aged eleven
But I had this job from heaven
I got tea and broken biscuits
Almost every working day
I got tips and lemonade
And my weekly pay
I was the wild
Home and Colonial boy.

Submitted: Thursday, August 07, 2014

Topic of this poem: childhood

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  • Freshman - 1,580 Points Michael Morgan (8/7/2014 2:07:00 PM)

    very nice piece. Reads itself. Great local color. Implies a great deal about the environment indirectly, without being tedious. MM (Report) Reply

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