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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,
Back at school tomorrow.
Not tomorrow!One more day off please.I'm sick.I'm not ready.I haven't done my homework.
After the fiftieth insult -
the school bag down the toilet, the stifled
giggle-whisper that hung like a smear on the air -
she suddenly saw
Sirens! The cry went round the shipas swift as if they'd sighted homeand every sailor felt the grip
She didn’t call for me as she usually does.I shared my crisps with someone else.
I sat with someone else in assembly.She gave me a funny look coming out.
Tadpoles huddled in a pondafraid of the Carribean night,its intense darkness.
Candleflies moving about,lighting up and going out,lighting up and going out.
My love is like a well-read bookwhich makes me smile each time I look.It shouts and whispers, roars and singsit grounds me and it gives me wings.
Tell me, Mama,Where does the sun come fromin the morning?
Where does it go towhen it reaches the edge of the field?
In the line you hear a chatter.Up and down a clatter, clatter.Noisy schoolgirls scream and shout,pushing in and pushing out.
I opened a bookand a hand fell out.I turned a pageand heard a shout:'I'm lost in a wood;my mother's no good.'I couldn't bear to look