It's given in, at last,
the old school's quit.
Spilt its guts like a split bin sack.
Weeds chewed through the stonework;
very hungry caterpillars.
I used to learn there.
They'll clean the site
and build retirement flats.
It died when I turned teen:
the playground shrunk
the hopscotch snake turned back to paint.
From then on, things got worse:
it seems, in boys, we mistook thick and poor
for hard
and all the whitest smiling girls
got knocked up first
got fat and spoilt - but first!
O, happy pioneers!
They never swore in hymns.
Now they push buggies
Now they push trolleys
and one bad wheel
drags them into railings
drags them into shelves.
