The Wild Boy
When I look back on my early days
by David McLansky
And contemplate my wild, wild ways:
The hands upon my shoulder laid
I brushed aside, I wouldn't play;
I was wild, wild, wild, a willful child,
I was fierce, hard pressed, devoid of style,
I often laughed when I should have smiled;
And lacking role, I lived by guile.
I was pulled and lured, a boy of charm,
A naive kid straight off the farm,
Unsocialized, a bum, who slept in barns,
A vagrant apt to cause alarm.
But worst of all, I had ideals,
I wouldn't rat, I wouldn't squeal,
I wouldn't trade my soul in deals
To guarantee rich restaurant meals.
Too late I learned to be socialized,
But even then I couldn't lie,
I looked on evil with such scornful eyes,
And was made to pay for all my pride.
Now that I'm old, my soul intact,
Having weathered such harsh attacks,
And all because of a lack of tact;
I've become the model that I lacked.