Look around the old school playground,
Remember times spent there,
The crafty fag behind the shed,
And kissing girls so they went red.
How did you do the things you’ve done,
For it’s hard to understand why,
You ran round like a headless chicken,
Chasing girls and making them cry.
I remember the tuck shop when playtime came,
To queue up and get wet in the rain,
And all for a tuppenny lolly and can,
Clutching to money soaked in your hand.
The playground was special and so very big,
With only two teachers but hundreds of kids,
And up in the window the head master glared,
When children were scrapping ripping out hair.
I remember that lunchtime the ice cream man came,
And the tuck shop caught fire oh what a shame,
The teachers went frantic and ripped out their hair,
When the fire was put out by the kids standing there.
I miss that old playground but I’m not going back,
The tuck shop is gone and the bike shed is cracked,
Teachers have left so it won’t be the same,
And the school’s even different for it’s changed the old name.
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