Bo Leary
Bo Leary was a girl in my class,
And at the risk of sounding a little bit crass…
Boy oh boy did she flatten some grass!
When the other girls her age were still,
Skipping with ropes she was taking the Pill.
She was straddled more times than the donkeys at Rhyl.
It was an odds on cert she’d be pushing a pram,
Before she’d pushed a pen through her first exam.
Sweet, petite angelic Bo…
A face as pure as Christmas snow,
Auburn ringlets that poured from her crown…
Deflowered the boys all over town!
Every lad I knew fell under her.
Even Spotty Stephen Blair,
With dirty green teeth and nits in his hair.
She had them all… up the bike shed wall…
The academic, the fool; the quiet, the unruly …
Every lad in the school… except yours truly!
Oh… she’d often cast a smile my way… a glanced invitation to roll in the hay,
But I steered well clear of her passions of fire.
Yet how saintly she looked when she sang with the choir.
For when she wasn’t scorching her way through class,
Bo was a catholic girl who went to mass.
She would stroll down the aisle in her ankle socks…
Skip into the confessional box…
Divulge the tales of her dirty deeds…
And Father Shannon would choke on his rosary beads.
“My Gosh!” he’d splutter… “Oh Heavenly Jesus!…
In God’s name and Mother Teresa’s!”
“What’s become of Brendan Leary’s…
Sweet and innocent little daughter?
Go and say 1000 Hail Mary’s…
And wash your ‘doo-dah’ in the Holy Water!”
Then she’d pay her penance and carry on…
Collecting the ‘scalps’ of everyone.
Oh the bales of hay that she lay upon!
As time flew by it happened that I…
Finally fell to puberty, and touched by curiosity…
Got caught like a Sprat in Bo Leary’s net…
We kissed and coughed on a cigarette.
On a freezing cold night in the Butcher’s doorway…
I engaged on a bumbling, blundering foray…
Till I cupped Bo’s left tit in my ice-cold hand.
A ham-fisted manoeuvre; clumsily planned…
My first illicit teenage thrill…
It thawed through the barbs of the Winter’s chill.
I vividly recall the moment still…
For in the blink of an eye… Bo Leary hit me…
Kicked, scratched and viciously bit me!
She screamed… “I’m not that kind of girl anymore!”
And rapidly disappeared from sight…
Dissolved into the wintry night.
As my throbbing nose began to pour.
Blood and tears at the Butcher’s door!
How the hell was I to know, that wanton, loose, immoral Bo…
Had recently vowed that she’d never bed,
Another boy until the day she wed?
It soon transpired that Brendan Leary’s…
Pretty but rather promiscuous daughter,
Had tired of spending her weekends chanting Hail Mary’s…
And dunking her ‘doo-dah’ in the holy water.
She was now saving herself for the man who would marry her…
And guarded her snatch like a pit bull terrier!
No longer would she flatten the grass.
The boys all donned black armbands in class.
And from that day; when she passed my way…
Bo never smiled at me again.
No glanced invitations to roll in the hay.
Just frosty looks of cold disdain.
She’d rather chant Hail Mary’s than talk to me.
And that is how it came to be,
That sweet, petite, angelic Bo…
A face as pure as Christmas snow,
Auburn ringlets that poured from her crown…
Deflowered the boys all over town…
The academic, the fool; the quiet, the unruly …
Every lad in the school…
Except yours truly!
~
Copyright© Mac McFadden 2009
