Rab, I don’t
remember but
Our aim was
true, we were
Litter
picker-uppers who
Never picked
rubbish up
To be
registered by C.B.C.
By the council.
We stole
Them from bin-sheds, we
Drank tea-smoked rollies
listened to Lou Reed
and walked on his
Wild side
staying up for
Days bouncing
off the walls
of anti-depression.
We
were high as
a kite, If you
slept you
were dead.
Dropping Magic
mushrooms
in the
fields around bluestone.
The cows
were like alien’s
Cops were
like beings from
Another
world we laughed
At them and
they couldn't do
a thing we
didn’t dry them
ate them on
the go with
thunderbird
wine or a can.
King taught me how to be me
He was like
my older brother.
I miss you Rab
but you’re in here
In syndrome
never forgotten.
Last time I
saw the King was at
a blues gig
in Belfast Buddy-
Guy, were are
still at that gig.
Poems and
songs will be writ
of you a man
like no other
My brother.
I thought
that this was gone
But I wrote
in five minutes flat.
Kinger you
are here with me
Buddy Guy the
blues, really true.
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