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He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
He swears on his mother's life he wasn't there.
And if he was there
he swears on his mother's life it wasn't him.
And if it was him
Please Mrs ButlerThis boy Derek DrewKeeps copying my work, Miss.What shall I do?
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;
Today I’m not going to school,I can’t face my lessons today,problem is my Mum’s no fool,she’s gonna make me go any way.