Donnie

DONNIE

Let me tell you a true story
From a very long time ago;
Of a little boy called Donnie
I had the privilege to know.

Now Donnie was a happy kid,
A portly little lad;
With an ever ready smile,
What a happy face he had.

Donnie and I were Cubs,
We loved our Wolf Cub Pack;
It filled in us a need
Of something we both did lack.

For we were both teased mercilessly
And often challenged to fight,
Donnie, because of his weight,
And me because of poor sight.

During free time at school,
While the other boys threw rocks,
Donnie would sit alone,
Quietly knitting socks.

For it was wartime you see,
So Donnie learned to knit
Socks, for the soldier boys,
That was his little bit.

Now Donnie had an uncle,
With a farm, not far away;
And this particular weekend,
He had gone out there to play.

He loved his little cousin,
They often played hide-and-seek,
But this particular day,
They went to play in the creek.

The creek was very dry.
And there was no place to hide;
So they tried to dig a cave,
In the sandy creek bed side.

The hole they dug was deep,
As Donnie was not thin;
And whilst he was inside,
The whole damn thing caved in.

The little girl ran home
In a very distressed state;
But when the adults got there,
They found it was too late.

The funeral day came,
And all we Cubs were there;
So distraught with grief,
All we could do was stare.

I tell this tale to you,
Regarding Donnie's fate;
For I miss him still.
He was my first true mate.

And it still makes me wonder
As this tale I relate;
Why such a lovely little chap
Should meet such a terrible fate.