Guillym was five.
Talked to himself
all the time.
Bright too
- as a shiny coin.
Bit of a bush lawyer,
you might say.
Nicked a banana
one day at school.
Stuffed the whole lot
into his mouth.
Then tossed the skin.
The teacher saw him.
'Guillym...'
'Put it in the bin! '
'Why should I?
'It wasn't my banana...'
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bush-lawyer/
