After War

           The Depression Years

                       “St. Johns;

                              boys home blues”.

St. Johns; 

        boys home blues             

hungry

we were always famished, a curse

in our childhood lives year after year

it was I know now after the second great

world war and the depression followed

hit everyone hard

    “i know it was, as boys

         we pushed-pulled horse-carts round houses

                   begging’ for extra clothes, food”.

innocence

it disappears fast when you’re famished

tummies rumble for more food

and the sweet smell of fresh baked bread

was enough to tip any scale

      “patience we learnt quickly

              we had no choice

                     the priests were robust at strapping”.

so we wait

until all is finished

the fresh sweet smelling odour enticing us

laid out on stainless steel work-benches

waiting for us

“the women helpers

           who do the bread and baking,

              really know how to make tasty bread”.

the coast is clear

one mate keeps a sharp look out

as the three of us, raid the kitchen yet-again

Sinners that’s what we are, so the priests

tell us anyway when were caught doing

something we’re not allowed to

           “sinners and God,

                what do 9 – 10 year old boys

                               understand about priestly words”.

like flicking butter

up onto the high dining-room ceiling

it’s great fun betting who can make

the biggest circle up there as the

butter melts

“at least all boys,

       all ages go in for this challenge

            and  luxury bets change hands I tellya”.

Ah! Butter

that’s what we want

nothing like freshly buttered bread

it is a clean getaway, one loaf

and half a pound of butter from fridge stores

bet they notice one missing

      “missing, gone astray

           kids would swipe your socks to double’em-up

                                 in Melbourne’s bitter winter”.

you havta’

keep ya trap shut about things like this

there’s always some smart arseholes that’ll

dob you in to get special privileges - sod em’

it’s what we do, what a boys home is all about

worth the belting if-ya’ caught that is

       “we stuffed ourselves silly

                       till bloated tummies  

                           could consume no more”.

we get away with it this time

because no one knows who did the sneaky deed

however, the whole home cops the penalty

loss of mail privileges and visitors rights

that’s if you have any family

       “families tell me about it

                half the kids here were dumped

                        the unwanted, others as well, war orphans”.

Heaven’

heaven help us if one guy opens his goddamn trap

starts boasting, it will really hit the fan

priests’d be on us like a ton o’ bricks, and older boys

with bigger fists will beat the shit outta us

but we’re a close nit & been together for years

“some may suspect us

       especially the priests

                 since we’re high on their trouble makers list”.

It’s great

when we have had a neat clean raid, and no pain.

© debarnes February 2008 -15th