‘I’m not down here for your money
not down here for your rotten soul’.
Nick Cave
Mint
condition: Two bob bits and half crowns
I stole the
bastard’s coins for fags. My sister
Named me
regal head I was so addicted.
I never
hurt no one but me, there’s things
You don’t do,
that cunt broke my mothers
Innocent beauty
and abused my sister/brother.
I have no
regrets I fleeced the cunt who thought
More of
coins than human lives. While the fucker
Slept I took
the key of the money box and stole
A fiver or
a tenner every week, I dropped it every
Saturday, I
knew my mates knew, I didn’t give
a fuck I was
like my mother, humane.
When he
found out he beat me, I laughed
in his face,
put me to bed for three days but
I climbed
in and out the window. Mum knew
said
nothing. He was treasurer of Hib’s
Social snooker
club. I am only remembering
This now so
I got the mint condition.
I stole his
coin collection, we never spoke
He never
gave me pocket money, handed
My brother
money each week and looked
Into my
eyes so I fleeced the fucker blind.
He was a panel
beater I.R.A. hardman but
I panel
beat the bastard and ran away
To my aunt Peggy
in London. The coins
are on his eyes,
I would do it all again.
I knew
there was something wrong
in his
being I had a gut reaction, poor mum.
I know he
was a bastard child but
He should
have known better, pity’s
not in it. I
gambled all his money on
pitch and
toss, inhaling.
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