Al Capone Guns Still Don’t Argue: (The Rude Boys Recall)

After being reunited with one of my oldest mates the other day, I was prompted to write:

Al Capone Guns Still Don’t Argue

Sheffield, and Tuesday night’s Top Rank night
Skank and shuffle, ultraviolet light
Godfrey, Sam, Glendon, Cecil, Trigger,
And Me. In a line.
And Al Capone Guns Don’t Argue

A dance with a gyal, up close, feels fine
Lorraine, or Sheila for the whine and grine
Glendon: How come you like all the black music,
When you’re white?
Al Capone Guns Don’t Argue

I could say something about the rhythms and beat
Instead my Kojak lolly smashes, down by his feet
I say: You like Kung-Fu, but you’re not Chinese
They all laugh. So does he
Because Al Capone Guns Don’t Argue

Then skinny legs inside Oxford Bags
Stride home toward homework, and Bruce Lee mags
Godfrey, Sam, Glendon, Cecil, Trigger
And Me. Just lads
And Al Capone Guns Don’t Argue

Rude Boys to grown men, Godfrey and I reminisce
Tank-tops in the Top Rank, worn by folk that we miss
He still speaks to Glendon though
So I say: Tell him this
Al Capone Guns Still Don’t Argue

Mark and Godfrey

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