Look there.
It’s the kid without fingers.
Look. Look. There he is.
The kid who can’t grab anything.
The kid with the stumps for hands.
The one who can’t wear a ring.
He’s going away.
They say he’ll be out on his rear.
No knuckles, can’t pray,
won’t be writing letters back here.
Look. Look right there. There he is. The fingerless kid.
The kid who'll never own gloves.
Look at him. Look.
He’ll never scratch an itch
or turn the pages of a book.
I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna look at that kid anymore.
It makes me sad. And besides
I’m getting sore
At the kid with no fingers.
He’s allowed to just sit
and without a wipe lingers
after taking a shit.
He can’t write his name,
and he ain’t got no shoes.
And it gives me the blues
when he picks his nose
with his toes.
Look at him.
Have a look but don’t stare.
That kid’s no good with scissors
But when it comes to knocking
beware.
Look. But don’t get too close.
That kid’s hands are like bricks.
He’s worse than all thumbs
and he can’t make a fist.
But when his punch comes
you’ll wish that he’d missed.
Don’t ask him to turn a doorknob,
Or squeeze lemonade.
But if there is somewhere to rob
he’s got it quite made.
The kid without fingers is running away.
Catch him. Tackle him.
He’s heading for the highway.
Take him down. Come on!
Don’t let that kid go astray.
Doesn’t he know on the roadside
a thumbless kid can’t hitch a ride?
But there he goes.
He’s going on through
That barbwire fence
Onto pastures new.
He’s going, going, gone.
He finally blew.
So don’t start to fidget,
And take one last look.
The kid with no digit
Has just found a hook.
Posts
