Woke up this morning with back to school blues,

Stared at my new uniform and black shiny shoes.

Mum screaming, “Are you getting dressed?”

“And it’s cold outside so put on a vest”

I slouched into the kitchen holding my head,

“I can’t go to school mum my heads gone all red.

Maybe its typhoid, do you think I could die?”

“I doubt it!” she screeched and loosened my tie.

I ambled to school and kicked a few stones,

Chatted to classmates and had a few moans,

Taunted the new kids with their oversize jackets,

Shiny new briefcases and pencils in packets.

Entered the gates of ‘Destruction and Doom’

Then head for assembly with its sweaty perfume.

Assembly over our form teacher appeared,

Biscuit breathed with the start of a beard.

She was an ox of a woman with long nasal hairs,

A great booming voice and threatening stares.

The register was called, school agenda completed,

Off to the first lesson, mind already depleted.

Equations and algebra, I just can’t get the gist,

“Disruptive in class”, the Math teacher hissed:

“To the headmaster! From class you’re dismissed!”

Old ‘Mr Cane’ four times on each hand,

Then into the boys room to soak in washstand.

Next class P.E. what can go wrong?

I’ve not packed my Tee-Shirt but my Mothers Sarong.

“Well, well now Laddie what have we here,

Get dressed up for football, no excuses worn here!”

I Paraded the pitch in the Flowered Sarong,

Black shorts and boots, it looked awfully wrong!

Not a good look for my female adoration,

By the end of the day a bullied sensation!

When the bell rang I jumped not with glee,

I’m too battered and worn out you see.

“Hello son, don’t be too sad,

you’ll soon be unemployed, just like your Dad!”