Little tyke

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Poor little tyke,

He was a sorry sight.

His dad was at the pub,

And his mam was out all night.

He didn’t go to school,

For no-one woke him up.

And he drank from a bottle

For he hadn’t got a cup.

He learned about the dole,

For this would be his future,

From something that he stole,

A second-hand computer.

Now he sits behind his desk,

Doing what he loves.

Shuffling the papers

And handing out the jobs.

Mary Treveil,

Ardrossan Road,

Hartlepool.