lil taffy two tripshad been away beforea miners trip to barryalso nantyglovalley boy adventurereager to exploreworld before his feetmam crying on the doori've packed you tea and sandwichesweeping in her shawlher little boy's too young for thishe's only forty fourintrepid, brave and welshfocus clear as crystalsailed the severn seasended up in bristolbright lights, noise, and blackmenbut taffy knew the crackhe'd watched a film called zuluthe welsh are'nt scared of blackapproached a pretty ladylooking rather coldstockings and suspendershigh heels, posing boldbussle, crowds and trafficleft taffy feeling illneed to sort my head outwhere can i get a pillshe introduced a hooded manwho offered him a jointi got no where to cook itbut thank you....there's no pointfive pounds for a tabletbut taffy had to risk itwhat added to confusionthe man called it a biscuitsat down on the pavementfeeling warm and funnytook his little cap offand people chucked in moneypioneer bold and bravesniggered thro his teeththey won't believe his storywhen he returns to neathno butchers or a chemista place beyond beliefblack man selling medicinealso joints of beefcraddling the flask of teaand sanwiches of spamtears down his knitted scarfwrapped lovingly by mam