There were always wrongs

There were always wrongs

Two wrongs or more

Never did make things right

As I cursed the injustice of bed without supper

For the temerity

Of saying no to Sunday school

How many times did I suffer for my brother

Taking the blame for his mistakes

“Wait till your father gets home”

Was a phrase well worn

God help the child who said no.

The nuns had a way of dissuading

Good Catholic girls from overreaching

Chapelgoers never understood

The finer points of the Catechism

Preferring to sing Onward Christian Soldiers

Than to count their blessings

Until the time came to go home.

Ignoring the straight-home rule

Making a bee-line for ‘Pioli’s’

The only cafe in the village with a jukebox

‘Peggy Sue’ on repeat

The older kids curling their lip

In search of Elvis.

Spilling a milkshake down my clean white shirt

Slapped on the arse

For my mistake

Where was the presumption of innocence.

Early to bed means early to rise

One bathroom between five

Meant a queue

And one bath a week

How did we not know

How much we did stink.

There are no good old days

Just old days

When we were young

Some days were good and others were

Just plain bad.

Paddled for the sake of an argument

Punched in the face for answering back

Even if we did recycle milk bottles

Carry groceries wrapped in brown paper

Which was also good for a bump on the head

Apparently.

We were punch bags for the bully

Who we were told to respect

Regardless of the circumstance.

So help me god

If I hear you say kids today

Are little shites one more time

I will be drawn to remind you

Of the Kray twins,

The Yorkshire Ripper

Fred West

And Jimmy Saville