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Poem

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.

Poem

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

Poem

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?

Poem

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.

Poem

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.