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The honeysuckle wall

On my grandparents garden stood a statue of “ Ginny”
Standing as though it was a barrier against something secretive
At the end was a high honeysuckled wall
It’s strange what reminisces make you recall
Asking what was beyond the flowers many,many times
I was told stands a wall of crimes
Yes, there was a place where you didn’t venture at all
No matter what your plans you didn’t go beyond that wall

It was much later in my youth
That I discovered nothing but the truth
Two brothers owned the land beyond my grandparents garden
This was not to be used for general farming
It was just a base for their vicious crimes
The boys were seldom noticed, probably busy planning further heists?
On the land was a caravan to store their guns and refuge for their power
Things I never thought lurked behind the honeysuckle flowers

Later the brothers names were pinned to many bank heists
Protection rackets, prostitution and many local fights
Immortalised in legendary rock groups songs
Where they were respected for their criminal wrongs
Across the pond they were known by initials and first names
Top blokes and masters of their game
But, you would not have thought it at all
What was hidden behind my grandparents honeysuckle wall.

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