Name: Timothy Winters
Duration: 2 min 34 s
Channel: Charles Causey/Adrian Pratt
Description: "Timothy Winters" is a song by Adrian J Pratt. They say there aren't boys like him anymore...

Timothy Winters

Adrian J Pratt

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They say there aren't boys like him anymore...

p o e m c h a r l e s g a u s e y t i m o t h y w i n t e r s

Adrian J Pratt

Songwriter, Singer, Rock, Pop, Folk, Funk, Punk, Christian, Contemporary, 70's, 80's, 90's, 00's, 10s, 20s, covers, experiments, doodles and oodles of fun!

Introducing the greatest talent ever to emerge from the orange bedroom at my parents house. I play guitar like.... well, like a guy playing guitar. I tickle ivories. I twiddle on the computer. I sometimes enjoy beans on toast for breakfast. And in the cracks between the eating, sleeping, laughing, crying, working, breathing experience that is my life there sometimes slips out songs like these.

Song Info

Genre

Rock • Garage Rock

Charts

Peak #198

Peak in subgenre #11

Author

Charles Causey/Adrian Pratt

Rights

Charles Causey/Adrian Pratt

Uploaded

May 27, 2024

Track Files

MP3

MP3 5.9 MB • 320 kbps • 2:34

Lossless

WAV 42.4 MB

Story behind the song

Back in my school days this poem by Charles Causey was part of the 'O Level' syllabus. Never did get it out of my head! It tells of a kid falling through the cracks and safety nets of society. Years later the poem has lost none of it's relevance. According to the Children's Defense Fund, one in five American children lived in poverty in 2000.

In an interview Charles was asked if the poem was about a real person. He replied;' My God, he certainly was. Poor old boy, I don't know where he is now. I was thunderstruck when people thought I'd made it up-he was a real bloke! Poor little devil.'

Lyrics

'Timothy Winters' words by Charles Causley (1917-2003), music by Adrian (written sometime in the early 1970's - then rewritten in the 80's -and eventuallty recorded many moons later in August 2010!)

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 kithen floor
And they say there aren't boys like him anymore.

Old Man Winters likes his beer
And his missus ran off with a grenadier
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

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