Timothy Winters comes to school With eyes as wide as a football-pool, Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters: A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.
His belly is white, his neck is dark, And his hair is an exclamation-mark. His clothes are enough to scare a crow And through his britches the blue winds blow.
When teacher talks he won't hear a word And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird, He licks the pattern off his plate And he's not even heard of the Welfare State.
Timothy Winters has bloody feet And he lives in a house on Suez Street, He sleeps in a sack on the kitchen floor And they say there aren't boys like him anymore.
Old Man Winters likes his beer And his missus ran off with a bombardier, Grandma sits in the grate with a gin And Timothy's dosed with an aspirin.
The welfare Worker lies awake But the law's as tricky as a ten-foot snake, So Timothy Winters drinks his cup And slowly goes on growing up.
At Morning Prayers the Master helves for children less fortunate than ourselves, And the loudest response in the room is when Timothy Winters roars "Amen!"
So come one angel, come on ten Timothy Winters says "Amen Amen amen amen amen." Timothy Winters, Lord. Amen