Budget Day

Ten Euro in your pocket
No food inside the fridge
One Euro for a Mars Bar
The breakfast-to-lunch bridge.
A coffee would be lovely
Fresh from the shop machine
Two Euro for a small one
You need that much caffeine.
Go to the supermarket
Head for the reduced line
Microwaveable pasta
For dinner? Fine.
Check the change remaining
A beer would be nice
Four Euro asks its question
Beer or bag of rice?
The hops come out as winners
Two cans take all you've got
Start again tomorrow
And try to worry not.

Dear Margaret

Put on the washing Margaret
Make a start on all their teas
Have a look inside the freezer
See what’s left under the peas.
Fish sticks in crispy batter
Just like the ad man states
Some microchips go with it
Look lovely on their plates.
Put on the oven Margaret
They’ll be home within the hour
With tales of work and college
They really are a shower.
But have a fag first Margaret
A ciggie’ll do no harm
Back when you were younger
It added to your charm.
They're polaroids now Margaret
Dreams all disappeared
Stories and ambitions
Falling on deaf ears.
So ignore the real you Margaret
Put away those hopes and wishes
Bury that ambition
Underneath the unwashed dishes.
The ketchup’s in the cupboard
Your tears are in the sink
The cutlery is stainless
When exactly did you blink?
Wipe those tears our Margaret
Here come the hungry few
Tell us how your day was
And how was it for you?
Did you live your dream dear Margaret?
“I thought I did” you say
But those gaping mouths need feeding
“I’ll defer to another day”.

Different Class

I started school when I was four
A uniformed wee man
By age eighteen I’m out the door
An exam and a dim life plan.
In between were books and lessons
Bullies, friends and rules
Teachers, sports, detention
The parts that make up schools.
Miss Taylor was my favourite
She looked a hundred and three
She was prob’ly in her fifties
Ancient then to me.
A kind and patient lady
Grey hair tied in a bun
Strict concerning lessons
With a smile suggesting fun.
McGee was the maths teacher
We didn’t get along
Not personally, you understand
Just all my sums were wrong.
I don’t recall the others
With any great emotion
Perhaps somehow I picked up
On their lack of real devotion.
Mullins, Carthy, Whelan
And Collins all in trouble
“Sketch” here comes old Duffy
To your desks lads, on the double.
Bag hanging off your shoulder
The homework laid out square
The weight of an Aran boulder
“Aw come on Sir, not fair”.
We’ll do it in the morning
In the yard or before the bell
First up is Mister Clancy
The Irish class from hell.
“Can any of you tell me
The Irish word for horse?
The answers in your notebooks
Now boys it’s on the course”.
A half-day off on Wednesday
For soccer or rugbai
Unless you had a sick note
Then you won the lottery.
Weekends and summer holidays
Christmas and Easter time
Register less intently
Than the nine o’clock bell chime.
Perhaps that’s why I hear it
As I walk in through the gate
St. Martins Boys maths teacher
I prefer not to be late.

90 minutes.

The football’s on the telly
Grab your tea and take your seat
It’s QPR V Villa
The home team’s hard to beat.
No score for each at half-time
Few chances to be fair
“He’s hit that well, that fella”
Says the pundit in the chair.
“Bit boring” states the brother
Who had a trial at Leeds
A broken metatarsal
Reshaped his wants and needs.
“Who’s that fella for the Villa?”
“Which one?” – “The Spaniard there”
“Top scorer in La Liga
Or France, or else somewhere”.
“Well, he’s rubbish for the money”
Says the uncle just walked in
“For fifty million quid
I’d rather Dusty Bin”.
“Dusty what?” says young Peter
“A bit before you son”
Ted Rogers with the questions
Sunday night and 3-2-1.
Just as we start complaining
About over the odds fees
Number eleven strikes it
And brings us to our knees.
What a goal for Villa!
“He’s struck it sweet as day”
What do you think now uncle
“He’s surely earned his pay”.
We’re none of us impartial
Now praying in our heads
Please let our Villa win this
Send us happy to our beds.
Five minutes have been added
Oh come on referee
Where did you find five minutes?
At most we’d give you three.
The seconds pass like hours
As we hold on to our lead
The whistle sound thrice tooting
The only calm we need.
It’s over, three points added
A famous victory
We’ll celebrate ‘til next week
And repeat the misery.

No 75 Pine Gardens

Number 75 Pine Gardens
Just down from the local shops
Two young lads run and scamper
Out the door with skips and hops.
Laughs and smiles and joking
Despite the cloud and rain
Loose change in their jacket pockets
The dentist soon would gain.
Around the corner running
The race to get there first
Black Jacks and Cheese ‘n’ Onion
Excitement fit to burst.
Taste the moment dearly
It lasts but just a jot
Taste the moment dearly
For soon that is your lot.
Number 75 Pine Gardens
Near where the buses stop
One grown man walks out briskly
To the front seat at the top.
Too grown up now for comics
Or sweets or fizzy pop
His footie days are over
The office was the swap.
Number 75 Pine Gardens
Retains a memory
Of a life once lived quite freely
With honesty and glee.

Wots All This Then?

- "Is this gentleman disturbing you madam?"

- "No officer, thank you. everything is fine".

The whole of class 2E thought the police reaction to the paper plane throwing a bit heavy handed.