At the age of just eleven years
The journey progressed steadily on
With entry to the Grammar School
My isolated village life near gone.
Free journeys in and out of town
Now provided by the State
As the grooming started for
A more elevated type of fate:
Junior Civil Servant, Teacher
White collar administration
Carefully monitored progress
Above my birth station
A very select few encouraged
To University for a Degree
Not the outcome expected for
A more rustic type like me.
Who, in spite of the investment
Remained a heart a village boy
Soaking up the knowledge offered
With an eager type of joy
Taking benefit of the chance
Of the offered new start
But deep down really just
Not a team player at heart,
On the Slow Train To Jerusalem
Having earned my seat
Mine if I wanted it until
My journey was complete.
