When I was once a 'carefree' kid,
a 'scholar' in a school,
was wedded to a wolf pack wild
reined in with rod and rule.
We were a flighty, feckless clan,
uncouth and football mad.
Shit-scared of ghosts and Dep’ty Head,
but most of all of dad.
Our teachers had the upper hand,
their reign of terror worked.
For each produced an iron fist
if any inmate shirked.
My wolf pack were a motley crew,
in-breds from off estates,
with ‘issues’ that they sorted out
at four, outside school gates.
With savage tooth and claw and boot
each fought like feral fiend.
Would punch and kick and bite and scratch
till teachers intervened.
Despite the pack and ‘gainst all odds
some teaching filtered through,
as selflessly, some teachers taught
strange things I never knew.
And to this day, I truly think
these were the golden years,
before romance, hard work and drink
sowed sorrow’s bitter tears.
- Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: March 25th, 2022 08:09
- Comment from author about the poem: dedicated to my wonderful teachers, who would never have believed that I (of all people) would one day join their noble profession.
- Category: Humor
- Views: 9
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