You don’t want to talk to Old Ted! <br />He has a bite almost as ferocious as his Rottweiler. <br />People give him a wide berth as they pass <br />His rotting old narrowboat, <br />Rusting and uncared for. <br />Just like Old Ted. <br />Blackened portholes adorn the sides <br />And a collection of old pieces of metal <br />Lie gathering dust and cobwebs <br />On his stern deck. <br />He emerges into the sunshine <br />At regular intervals <br />To move pieces about and clutter up <br />The towpath. <br />Addressed with a “Good morning” <br />Old Ted will look right through you, <br />With mad eyes and down-turned mouth <br />And mumble some obscenity, <br />His dirty skin and grubby grey clothes <br />Making the passer-by move more quickly <br />Stepping gingerly past the thick-necked dog, <br />As quietly as they can. <br />Seen only to leave when hunger gets the better of him <br />Or to urinate in the bushes <br />Old Ted is left alone. <br />Was he ever someone’s son?<br /><br />Francesca Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-ted-of-the-cut/
