Sirens sound on Durham Road

Maloney, lying, still and cold.

His last call for, the butchers van.

A noisy wasp, towards warm jam.

I point my finger, towards the sin.

The sirens call, draws them in.

Oh Maloney, what a fool.

I remember you from school.

Tough and tall, “don’t mess with him”.

In every town, in every gym.

Heard his voice in the barbers shop.

No singing quartet, an open blade chop.

Got a taste of what you sold.

Sunken eyes, loose rings of gold.

His epitaph said “the life and soul”

Time to drop back in your hole.

Oh Maloney what a fool.

I remember you from school.