My brother broke my finger and he set my hair on fire
He put it out with urine from the baby’s pot, the Liar
He stole the meat from off my plate and stuffed in his mouth
He still denies he hurt me but I will tell the truth

When my leg was broken, he asked me for a race
I only realised later that his motives could be base
He ran away and left me, on the way to school
I was knocked down by a bicycle, my suffering was cruel

He stole my books, he mocked my choir, he criticised and lied
I might tell you other things I have bottled up inside
But one fine day I got a grant to go away to learn
I bought myself a pair of shoes and my luck seemed to turn

Later on, he told me that he loved me very much
He had been to Cambridge where he’d studied double Dutch