COLLECTED POEMS
Page 11
Now children, said the teacher with a smile, 172
Oh Mother may I go to play, 134
Our mother is a detective, 93
Outside, the sky was almost brown, 126
Please Mrs Butler, 216
She came into the classroom, 136
She didn’t call for me as she usually does, 24
Sometimes when I’m in trouble, 118
The caretaker went on the roof today, 122
The early morning sun beams bright, 239
The fans in the stands are silent, 67
The first world, 112
The infants, 3
The match was played in Albert Park, 247
The phone rings, 105
The pitch is cold and dark, 83
The scab on Jean’s knee, 110
The snow has fallen in the night, 229
The teacher, 201
The teacher said: 6
The teacher says: 195
The teachers all sit in the staffroom, 205
The word is spreadin’ across the nation, 106
There is a new boy in our class; 221
There was a man named Mr Bloor, 196
There was an old teacher, 10
There’s a fish tank, 193
There’s something in Harrison’s desk, 12
Things I have been doing lately: 94
Towards the distant mountains flying, 143
tree little milk egg book, 207
Upon that sharp and frosty eve, 87
We are the Betsy Street Booters, 175
We’re hopeless at racing, 208
We’re lining up to see the nurse, 215
We’re waiting in the corridor, 209
Well I shouldn’t’ve been playin’ really, 167
What I like best, 183
When a knight won his spurs, 213
When I go upstairs to bed, 97
When I was a boy, 141
When we pick teams in the playground, 206
When you frown at me like that, Colin, 199
Where I sit writing I can see, 101
Who wants to buy: 9
Why must we go to school, dad? 79
You may well think y’knows it all, 131
You’ve heard the tales of Tarzan, 53
We have, it seems, a few spare pages here. It’s a shame to waste them. So here’s one more – a bonus track
Having a Baby
I came from Battersea In 1938
Delivered by a steam train Forty minutes late.
(Not the Dogs’ Home, though.)
My mother went to fetch me
By tram, then train
With Dad, as usual, working:
Hope’s – Window Frames.
(Or was it Danks’s Boilers?)
My mother had a shopping bag:
Bootees, bottle, shawl
And knitting for the journey
Not much else at all.
(A purse, I suppose; hat, glasses and such.)
She struggled across London
Got lost near Waterloo
And came at last to the Orphanage
At twenty-five to two.
(Early, even so, for a two o’clock appointment.)
They sat her in the corridor
Left her there till three
Then gave her a couple of documents,
A form to sign – and me.
(she couldn’t see to write. ‘M’glasses needed wipers!’)
Back then to Paddington
Weather wet and mild
Brand-new mother
Second-hand child.
(Good condition, though; one previous owner.)
And Mother clutched her secret
On her lap
From all the other passengers
All the way back.
(Dad, still in his overalls, was on the platform.)
He squeezed us in a cuddle
Gave me a clumsy kiss
He smelled of wood-shavings and oil
Mum specially remembered this
(And me? Asleep, apparently. I’d had a busy day.)
For my parents
GEORGE AND ELIZABETH AHLBERG
who gave me a home, and kept me out of one
∗Long-serving British prime minister (late twentieth century)
∗Rhymes with ‘car’ – Charlotte’s a Black Country girl.