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A Brick-bound Biddie's Lament ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1970

Staring at my bed-room wall
What do you think I saw?
Row on row of grotty bricks,
That's all I saw, no more.
But staring at that grotty wall
The bricks brought out a tear,
For as a lad I played with bricks,
And one stuck in my ear.

I pulled and yet, though hard I tried,
That brick would not come loose;
I cried and shrieked and yelled and said
Some words of great abuse,
For at the time I was but five,
And you must appreciate
To have a brick stuck in your ear,
That is a dreadful fate.

With heavy hearts my parents drove
To the doctors in the town;
He looked me down, he looked me up,
He looked me up and down,
Then said: "I see your problem, lad,
But I'm sorry, there's no cure";
I, crying, fell upon both knees
And asked if he was sure.

The doctor sadly gazed at me
And said, with sympathy:
"Alas, you must be locked away,
You'd scare Society.
For with a brick stuck in your ear
Great Terror you would spread";
And at his words, my only wish
Was to be stricken dead!

Now I've been placed inside this room
For nigh on forty year,
I have no friends, and no-one calls
To give me any cheer.
I still can hear that doctor's words,
And still they bring a tear,
For the brick which ended all my joy
Is still stuck in my ear.



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