Kicking a football before the school bell rings,
leaping like Bonetti as if I had wings.
Butler street kids know how to have fun at play.
Good morning teacher sir, you would hear us say.
With respect in our voice the Butler Street boys
Stood in our class lines without making a noise .
We lined up opposite the Herbert Street wall,
Like a small army we stood up proud and tall.
It was early morning 1966 , Another window Mr Toal had to fix,
Well who's responsible for this?
"Don't know sir"
The reply like a knife cut through the cold air .
The football sat with broken glass on the ground.
In the school yard some giggles echoed around.
"Come over here Nesbitt." Mr Moore did say.
Although innocent somebody had to pay.
So the teachers menace was Dennis that day.
Football was banned for a week but we could play.
The teacher told us to make our way to class.
We looked at the ball and walked through broken glass.
Get away from the glass came the chilling sound.
We went to pick up our bags in the playground.
The din of his voice shattered through all the class.
His welcome brought back a response just as loud,
" Good morning teacher" Said the Butler Street Kids.
His hand held a cane as we all did the skids.
The snow fell and we made our way to the doors,
up the stairs and then along the corridors.
With our red faces and cheeky smiles at school,
we all objected but it was overruled.
Dismissed by the teacher we found our way out,
to run round Ardoyne where we could scream and shout.
We all fit in together we stood in lines,
we began to grow and there were changing times.
Through the eyes of children we all had to grow ,
looking and learning things about life you know .
We ran and we fought, we were caught and let go
We were all taught until it was time to go.