“You go to school to learn,” he
said (my Dad), “to do your best;
do everything they tell you and
you’ll keep up with the rest.
It’s no good being lazy or staring
into space -
you’ve got to think of athletes,
son, in training for the race.”
So I worked hard at my numbers,
I’ve learned to tell the time,
I’ve sorted weights and measures
out, I read and write (in rhyme);
I’m pretty good at science, my art
goes on the wall;
I’m captain now at football - and
I just don’t care at all,
for although I’ve tried my hardest
and practised till I dropped
(behind the bike sheds usually, or
else we’d all be copped)
I still can’t get the hang of it,
I still can’t make it fly -
I still can’t spit as far as Zock
however hard I try.
(October,
1990)
