Brickie Poem by Leslie Philibert

Sometimes his false teeth fell out as he ate
his sandwiches in the tea-break; but he had
the laughing eyes of a barrow boy and the
stride of Goliath. He liked a pint after work
and hated it when children didn`t get enough to eat.
No fan of book learning he was clever in his own way
- he could put up a wall quicker than a fat aunt
could crush a lost biscuit by sitting on it - and
we all liked him, even the boys from Letterkenny who
never said much.

We were gods of sand and gravel.
We could build anything.

And when we drove home through Islington
we all sang, Krishna like:

Harry Brickie, Harry Brickie, Brickie Brickie, Harry Harry.

Here`s to you mate.
Please forgive me for writing a poem about you.