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He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
At swimming once,I went to turn from front to backand just kept turning,just kept turning,turning over,over and over,till the swimming teacher said,
Tippi can't stand clowns.Dragon is terrified of cockroachesand Mom of mice.Dad pretends to be fearless,though I've seen him flinch when the mail arrives
I like to stay upand listenwhen big people talkingjumbie stories
I does feelso tingly and excitedinside me
Nobody can see my name on me.My name is insideand all over me, unseenlike other people also keep it.Isn't my name magical?
Let me do it, let me do itLet me blow up the balloonLet me do it, let me do itLet me go to the moon
One moment they were there and we were having funNow they've disappeared, every single one.I don't know where to go and I'm feeling rather scared
My Gran was a Caribbean ladyAs Caribbean as could beShe came across to visit usIn Shoreham by the sea.
The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.The hall is worried about the loose banister.
Nobody knows what Jonjo knows. Nobody knows but he,So Jonjo took me for a walk and showed his world to me.