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 ramblings and things


All my life I've been clumsy
Regarded as a clot
But with rifle and pistol
Was a pretty good shot;
Was ok with a Stirling
That replaced the Sten
Maybe could've been Marksman
With a left-handed Bren.
The C.O. spotted me
That very first day
That man's not with it
I heard him say.

But I struggled on
And did my best
Somehow scraped
Through every single test
To become a Drill Instructor,
Lowest possible class,
But glory glory glory
A pass is a pass is a pass.
And so it's been
Throughout my life
Even pretty awkward
With a fork and a knife.

Diagnosed as Dyspraxic
At nearly seventy-four
Now being pretty clumsy
Doesn't bother me anymore:
Not just a cack handed birk
An idiot, a tosspot
Just a kind of mental disability
One that I've still  got,
And I'm proud of the fact
That against  all the odds
I became a Drill Instructor,
One of the Army's minor gods.

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