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It's All Gud Tho Innit!When I was a young lass… Boy was I a pain...! I drove me parents round the bend, And wound them up again and again! I never wore a dress! Cos I didn't wana be a weed! I would rather play at football! And belt the lads to heed! Conker trees were brilliant! Except when I fell down! Then I'd get all dirty, It always caused a great big frown! I was always grounded you know! Cos I was truly a little cow! You could always hear me mother shout! ‘Cathy!! What are you doing now?' Me mother wanted a pretty girl, So she could put dresses on in pink! But I had other thoughts on that! Dresses downright stink! She would put ribbons in my hair, And make me wear shoes so sad! Shiny leather, with bows! Grrrrr, but I wanted to be a lad! And when I was in the school playground, I always got into a fight or two! I mean it wasn't always my fault! But my excuses never came through! So they'd kneel me before the holy statue, And as I looked up to the staring eyes! I had to write one hundred lines… To this statue so tall and wise! I always had to write the same... 'I must not fight with the boys in school!' And every time I wrote it out... Ten minutes later I broke the rule! But they always started it you know! Cos it sure the hell wasn't me! It's just that they did my head in! Cos they really angered and irritated me! I mean, I only stuck up for others! The ones that couldn't defend… So there I'd be, boxing again! Sticking up for a new friend! Our Lady must have been sick of me! Kneeling before her almost every day! As there I was again and again… Writing as I pray! ‘Our Lady, please give me patience! And don't let me fight with the boys! And while you're at it, tell me teachers… It's not me who always makes a noise!' I'd kneel with sore knees every day, And look at this icon so wise… And every time I finished me lines, I'd check her staring eyes! I'm sure I saw them move one time, And it really made me freak! In fact, if I remember, I didn't have a fight for a week! But then again, what can I say, Cos I never once got wise…! And not only did I always get caught! I wasn't very good at lies! I always gave meself away! And there I'd be once more… Writing ‘I shouldn't fight the lads,' With sore knees, on the wooden floor! It's All Gud Though Innit! Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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