DBAC

DBAC

When we were little boys, younger than three,

Our mother would sing us a lullaby;

A slumberous solemn philosophy;

And closing our eyes, we'd drift with a sigh,

Into the forest of nod, by and by,

Where a chorus of all our cuddly toys,

Joined in with a most melodious noise:

CH

Be seen and not heard, but don’t be a cunt;

To adults and betters, listen take heed;

When spoken to, speak, with never a grunt;

Don’t grab all the things you want but don’t need;

Try on occasion to do a good deed,

And when you’re queuing, no pushing in front;

Remember your manners; don’t be a cunt.

We brothers were schooled in different ways:

I, due to failing the eleven plus,

Was secondarily taught in Goodmayes,

Arriving each day by not the same bus,

As he, the more scholarly one of us,

And the pupil of a school in Gants Hill;

A grammar whose name, I’ll not here reveal.

School names aside: upon reaching sixteen,

We took the first steps on our long careers;

I’d soon be working on a machine,

Whilst he’d be banking, and over the years,

Our father’s sage words would ring our ears:

Worldly advice, to be held in good stead,

On the path of life, and here’s what he said:

CH

Be honest, work hard, and don’t be a cunt,

By passing the buck, to hide a mistake;

While shying away from bearing the brunt,

Be seen to be keen, and don’t ever break

The company rules, or else you might make

An easy target, upon a witch-hunt,

By sticking your neck out; don’t be a cunt.

All this and much more, we twin siblings heard,

From father, before our first day at work;

His pearls, punctuated, by the C word,

Were as flying tips, to a fledgling bird;

The novice machinist and young bank clerk;

Founts of new knowledge with no wisdom spared,

Entered their workstations amply prepared.

And all too soon, I reluctantly found,

Some of the things father said, to be sure,

Were not especially helpful or sound;

More than a couple I chose to ignore:

Mistakes I hid, and the rule book I saw,

As something to flout more often than not,

(Though hard work, at first, I gave a fair shot).

And over the years, I learned many ways

To foil directors and bosses inclined,

To lessen our rights, and lengthen our days,

With company shares and profit in mind,

Though little reward for our daily grind,

And, when the time came, life- lessons I passed,

Down to my children, without being asked:

CHS

Be thoughtful and kind, but don’t be a cunt;

Engage with your noddle before you speak,

And if I abruptly respond with a grunt,

It’s likely because I’ve had a bad week;

Work can be sometimes decidedly bleak;

A total pain in the arse, to be blunt;

Feel free to say to me: don’t be a cunt.

And on the subject of “Don’t be a cunt”:

Beware of the likes, of Trump, and Farage,

They are, to your intellect, an affront,

Embraced by the presently far too large,

And wilfully ignorant entourage

Of a populist publicity stunt,

Funded by billionaires; don’t be a cunt.

And whether or not they bore it in mind,

My kids are, successful, thoughtful and kind.