Backscratchers

Grammar school tactics at 13

The Probert boy from rainy Wales,

both genius and full-time drip,

whose brown eyes blinked at rapid speed,

who'd earned the name of classroom weed,

he fancied me and I agreed,

to make him look tres hip.

He sat beside me, desk to desk,

"Girl, boy, girl boy" our teacher cried.

each Monday morning filled with dread,

those maths equations in my head,

from out my brain they quickly fled,

when tested all hope died.

But David couldn't bear to see

the smile erased from my young face.

He whispered that he had a plan,

he'd always been a doting fan,

so through his thoughts he quickly ran

and trumped up with an ace.

He'd mark my papers up for me.

"No worries now, it's all been planned,

on Sunday nights you will sleep well,

those nasty moments of sheer hell,

I promise that I'll never tell,

If you will take my hand

on Fridays in the main school hall.

A lesson that I do despise,

it's country dancing agony,

as no one ever wants to be

a partner to a wimp like me"

I heard his anxious sighs.

I kept my word and so did he.

My scores improved a grade or two.

In all it worked a blooming treat,

his ego shot up by three feet,

this little bit of sly deceit,

Why am I telling you?

Reviews

[red93]

Love it Chris and I assume it is a true story. A lovely charming read that shows fully yr sweet nature.

No girls at our School regrettably - I only discovered Women at Oxford ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

[Chris Shaw]

Thanks Tony. Yes a true story. Pleased you enjoyed the read.

Chris

[.]

Seems like the backscratching worked out just fine!

A very unique rhyme scheme used in this poem, much different from what I have read on this site these past two years. As a devotee of rhyme, i can appreciate the effort on display here. Very well done.

[Chris Shaw]

Love my rhyme Doodley, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yes, it took a great deal of effort, this one.