Kerry-Lee Powell

Ship’s Biscuit

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After Mother scarpered

It was ship’s biscuit

With shrapnel sparkles.

It was hot spurts and gristle

And cold snaps with a wet towel

For stealing a puff from Dad’s fag

Or sneaking a peek at his titty mags.

But we buggers deserved no better.

It was us that made her run off,

With our bickers and our bungles.

It was our bloody cheek.

It was his bleeding knuckles.