The Angry Naughty Little Boy

The Angry Naughty Little Boy

He stands with arms tight across his chest

eyes like thunder ready to break

his mouth a line that will not move

and his feet planted hard on the ground

He has been told no and no again

and still he tries to push his luck

he stamps his heel he lifts his chin

and dares the world to stop him

Mud on his knees from the morning fight

crumbs on his shirt from stolen bread

his pockets are full of stones and string

and one dead beetle he will not throw away

He kicks the wall just to hear the sound

he spits in the dust and watches it dry

the sun burns his hair into wild gold

and he squints at it like it is to blame

Mam shouts his name from the doorway

but he will not turn he will not move

his head is full of battles to win

and stories where he is never wrong

The angry naughty little boy will grow

but that look in his eyes will never fade

he will carry it like a coin in his hand

and toss it high when trouble walks by