I clearly recall Vigus who was around eight
Wearing a girl's dress climbing over their front gate
His folks thought this apparel would keep him at home
And discourage him from leaving their place to roam

When we played a game of marbles on the bare ground
He would tuck the dress between his legs and stoop down
This was in preparation for his turn to “pitch”
So he could aim at the target without a hitch

His first language was a version of French patois
Which he learned in his native island, St. Lucia
When we first met and he spoke French patois to me
I, not understanding, would nod approvingly

We made chocolate ice cream from sifted dirt and sand
And sought someone to taste our own special brand
He was my next door neighbour and as a young boy
Playing together as children brought us great joy