The first job I ever had was delivering newspapers
in the village of Kilmaurs, Ayrshire, Scotland. Those
early mornings gave me a feeling of freedom and
contentment and the paper opened the world to me.
I hope I'll always be that paper boy.

Down to the agent's shop I'd go
I'd shoulder my bag down the Irvine Road
Past the council houses, row on row
When I was a paper boy
With the Daily Record and the People's Friend
I'd go down to the Sunnyside again
Under the bridge where the railway bends
When I was a paper boy
And my feet flew in the morning light
Racing the dawn as the sky grew bright
And everything in the world was right
When I was a paper boy
I'd walk the morning and the empty streets
Would ring to the sound of my own two feet
And I'd walk in step to my own heartbeat
When I was a paper boy
As the rain rolled down the back of my neck
I delivered the news of death and sex
Rhodesia, Speck and Malcolm X
When I was a paper boy
Crow in a tree top way up high
Hung as a warning, left to die
And the moaning wind in the morning sky
When I was a paper boy

Words and Music:
©David Francey (Ayer's Cliff, Quebec, February 24, 1998)