Now every little town of note
Has as a part of its makeup stout
The village idiot who has his place
And Silly Willie was ours no doubt

Now Willie a tall lad of twenty
Spent his days roaming city streets
And led on most auspicious times
Parades and funeral and public meets

For lads our age he was the butt
Of jokes and he responded in kind
But deep beneath the joviality
We had a secret fear in mind

And I recall one bus ride of note
When Willy sitting next to me
The local idiot feared by most
Lashed out to hit me suddenly

And when I looked he sat unmoved
With grin as broad as Satan’s smile
And I in rigid fear sat frozen
Just waiting for that final mile

Now he is gone to his reward
Remembered by one and all for sure
Not for his contributions fine
But for his colourful caricature
  Submitted By: John Cornick