I read the other day of an important Royal Appointment – a new Poet Laureate, no less. I read up a bit about him.

I couldn’t rest, and ultimately came up with the attached. If you think it suitable, can you squeeze it somewhere in your Rayboulds program?
Cheers

Ian

“After Simon Armitage, Poet Laureate 2019, who once wanted to write a poem about his home town, Huddersfield, recognising their use of English.

A Boy From Brum

A thousand trades we got, they said;

You can say that again.

OK, “A thousand trades.”

That means work, that does – Work.

My Headmaster –

“PhD London” on the notepaper, with a badge

(And he wore a cloak) –

He told all of us assembled at the end of term one day

That his School – our school – had done “A Good Year’s Work.”

Work? I thought.  School?  You gorrabe kidding, intcha?

Sir?

My dad knew what Work was.  He Worked,

In a factory.

Starting at ‘alf-past seven every morning,

Or lose some pay for being late.

He went on his bike (so did I, to school) and back.

Blue overalls, the lifelines in the palms of his hands

Stained black from grease and dirt while working 

At one of our famous thousand trades.

Before he rode home (so he told me once) 

He done what he could to tidy up, 

Cleaning those big workmens’ hands

In a bucket of paraffin.

So, now: you ask: my trade?  One o’ them thousand?

Oh.

I’m a Poet.“