A Loving Bond.
Her mother was young and very pretty,
To feed her baby she worked the city.
Many men she had each night,
Black or yellow, brown or white.
Curly Sue was only four,
When her mother she found on the floor.
From a cold finger she slipped a ring,
Happy memories, it might bring.
On hearing Curly's lonely plight,
Her mother's friend drove through the night.
He and Curly were the best of friends,
Little gifts he often sends.
On seeing her friend, Curly ran to him,
Her sad little eyes filled to the brim.
Would he let her share his life,
He lived by his wits and had no wife.
But Curly Sue had nothing to fear,
In his eye she could see a tear.
Of her Mum he'd been truly fond,
The three of them had a special bond.
Sleeping rough, they were often found,
Huddled together on the cold, hard ground.
To keep from starving they did odd jobs,
Busking the streets or pampering the snobs.
Sometimes when their luck was really down,
They were hounded out of many a town.
Until at last they found their saviour,
A wealthy lady with impeccable behaviour.
At first she mistrusted these filthy two,
But as time went on, a friendship grew.
She fitted them out with the best of gear,
While of their escapades she loved to hear.
Her wealthy friends thought her crazy,
To harbour people whom they saw as lazy.
But hidden talents she found they had,
To have brought them home she was so glad.
Curly Sue would sing to please,
While her loving friend could tickle the keys.
Eventually all three became one,
Living together, having so much fun.
(c) John McKay Withey 1997
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