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In Print 15

A PLEA

Original Work by P. Lencerts, 4C

I often think, while on the brink,
Of trying to pen a good poem,
How nice it would be
To be able to write
Like Tennyson, Shakespeare or Owen.

A bird or a fly, or a cloud in the sky
Would send them into rapture.
I just can't understand
How they did it so well
Their methods, I'd like to recapture.

I sit in a chair, and I think and I stare
And I never get inspiration.
So please, Sir, I beg,
When you next give us prep.,
"No poetry's" my supplication!

REFLECTIONS ON PRIZE DAY

Original Work by J. Clarke, Form 3D

Three hundred nice clean faces
Three hundred 'Tide' clean shirts
Trot quickly to their places;
The silence really hurts.

The masters, all resplendent,
Take their appointed pews,
While Mums and Dads abundant,
Are lining up in queues.

For once a year as ever
We meet to honour those
Who are so sharp and clever -
See them sitting there in rows.

We duller ones watch sadly
And wonder what we lack,
Why do we do so badly
When they're so 'all right Jack'?

But then the music rises,
Dispelling all our gloom,
Six hundred can't get prizes
So why sit here and fume?

1961 In Print Magazine

Suggested:

Dr. Watson's Retirement

Photos of Staff

Hockey

Junior Common Room (1963)

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