The little town of Banjo Bay
Sits proudly in the cove
Welcoming her sons home from their toil
Her harbour filled with laughter
Her streets bedecked with love
A place for growing up and growing old
Charlie Bright the butcher’s boy
Rides his trusty bike
Along the quiet streets of Banjo Bay
His basket filled with sausages,
Bacon, chops and tripe
Delivering the orders of the day
Unlike the name he carries
Charlie isn’t very bright
People always stare at him and laugh
But Charlie in his ignorance
Atop his trusty bike
If by chance should notice, just laughs back
The citizens of Banjo Bay
Are partial to their fish
For fishing is the trade they most enjoy
But sometimes they will hanker
For another kind of dish
And that’s when Charlie’s bike finds its employ
Although the bike is sturdy
It has seen far better days
Used by many butcher’s boys before
And though no-one can quite recall
Just when it had been made
It certainly was long before the war
Now Charlie had no family
A foundling he had been
A mother and a father had he none
Mr. Bright had found the baby
on the village green
and being childless claimed him as his own
Mr Bright was happy
as a living soul could be
for Charlie was the son he never had
and though the boy was happy
with his new found family
never had he called the old man Dad
The morning sun shines brightly
On the narrow, cobbled streets
As Charlie’s rusty wheels spin wildly round
He gives a smile and waves a hand
At everyone he meets
Pedalling like fury through the town
As he goes he thinks about
the old familiar dream
and wonders at the face that lingers still
the face of she who left him
on the lonely village green
and face that didn’t care and never will
Sausages for Eveline
A bacon joint for Jane
A pound of tripe for poor old Mr. Jones
Chops for Mrs Smart
Who owns the bakers on Tide Lane
Then Charlie mounts his bike and cycles home
The house seems strangely quiet
As young Charlie ventures in
Amazed to see the sight that greets his eyes
A woman with a scarlet mouth
Tears dripping from her chin
And the old man standing mutely at her side
Mumblings and words of love
But nought he understands
Each word twisting one about the other
Words tossed on a hurricane
Like grains of drifting sands
But one above all else he hears is Mother
A sorry tale she tells him now
Of treachery and scorn
A sailor who would sweep her off her feet
A young girl forced to flee in shame
From innocence newborn
When her sailor left again to join the fleet
Now dressed in silk and fancy fur
She offers him her world
A life of riches waits if he will come
If he can find forgiveness
For the weakness of a girl
The girl will give the boy a happy home
But this is not the face of she
Who lingers in a dream
Shrouded in a veil of mystery
This is she who left him crying
On the village green
And not a face that Charlie cares to see
The Mother and the man are left
As Charlie mounts his bike
His dream is crushed, his world is torn in two
Secrets better kept
Have been revealed to him this night
Now he must decide what he should do
The evening star shines down
Upon a restless, rolling sea
As Charlie to himself in anguish says
“Dreams can be a blessing
for a simple lad like me
and simple is the life that I have led”
“But dreaming is for dreamers
And I am done with that
What good are dreams within the light of day”
Then Charlie, with a happy heart
Cycles gaily back
Back towards the lights of Banjo Bay
The haloed moon beams down
Upon the narrow, cobbled streets
As Mr Bright scrubs down the wooden slab
Then, lips as soft as thistledown
Upon his stubbly cheek
Kiss, and whisper softly ”Goodnight Dad”
