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His name is called and there's a pause
just long enough to halt a war
tame timber wolves and trim their claws
hide diamonds in a secret drawer
He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.
Miss Flotsam was my reception teacher.She had travelled the world.Brown hair turned goldenunder distant suns,clothes carrying colours
Please Mrs ButlerThis boy Derek DrewKeeps copying my work, Miss.What shall I do?
How many books have you written?Have you been writing for years?Where do you get all the paper?Where do you get your ideas?
We goin' on a school trip today,De whole class goin' to Whitney Bay,Ah teckin' me ball an' bat with meTo play beach cricket, an' let me see,
Eyes as wide as continents brim wih the water between.
Seeks a different future. Looks back on what has been.
Mouth seeks another language. Shapes a different air.
In the line you hear a chatter.Up and down a clatter, clatter.Noisy schoolgirls scream and shout,pushing in and pushing out.
When Raymond Gough joined our classHe was almost a year behind.'Sanatorium', said Mrs McBride'So I want you all to be kind.'
I’ve got the Teach-them-in-the-morning-Playground-duty-Teach-them-in-the-afternoon blues.My head’s like a drum;My feet, cold and sore.I’m feeling so glum;