Roy

Bells ringing on the radio,
Merry Christmas Everybody, Silent Night;
my ma wants a record of carols;
I’ll pick one up tonight.

I had a wee dance in the kitchen,
and she laughed as I shuffled along;
the fits have left me limping,
and my arm hangs down all wrong.

But after all, I’m lucky,
holding down a job;
getting the crack with my mates,
earning a good few bob.

I can’t move very quickly,
but I’ll give most things a go.
People see my stiffened limbs and
no one blames me if I’m slow.

Disabled twenty-three-year-old male, shot dead by the Irish Republican Army (IRA) while trying to stall a bomb attack at his workplace in Belfast.