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“You’d not swap him for the world”, she purred,
Lame, knocked for comfort.
Comfort? My God. Head and limbs cockeyed:
Well then: boys your age don’t read Noddy.
Don’t do cut out dolls
Nor wag a length of string for pleasure.
Chaps your age think they’re great, Somebody;
Cut a dash with the girls,
Shave, talk racy, cockily measure
You struggle for learning, stubborn, yet forgetting diff’rence,
Speak with assurance of fabulous
Lads in step with manhood Know a Thing,
Sit exams, stand tall,
Loll in seared grasses with Lovely Ones
You butt your body’s weight, let fly at
Sheepish muscles and,
Pond’rous, frail, manhandle feckless legs
Like freight …
… while the go-all blades beef balls about
And shout. They heave their
Shoulders in the scrum, all here-we-come
Sure, I’d scotch the tumbled chromosomes,
Scupper the Bad Guy
Who baulks your days. I’d crank the engine’s
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