Poetry by Jeff Green


Mr MacAuliffe, with thanks

by cricketjeff on March 13, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

Mac’s voice rising all spell bound
Thirty pupils, not a sound

  ‘WHY dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
Edward, Edward,
Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
And why sae sad gang yee O?’

Thirty pupils what a capture
Middle-aged but source of rapture
Every word and all the feeling
One small schoolboy’s mind was reeling

O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and frie O.’
‘Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward,

Ancient scene now recreated
Every nuance baldly stated
Language tough but understood
Mac was ruler of this ‘hood

He it was who fired my spark
Showed me how to light the dark
Perfect rhythm, sharpest rhyme
Always get the lines to time

And whatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me O.’
‘Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither,
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,

A day I found my mind had changed
Different ways were now arranged
Visions spilled from arcane verse
Heard him call this ancient curse

‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither,
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Sic counseils ye gave to me O.’

Nothing now would be the same
And old mad Mac must take the blame
Picked the chair up from the floor
And with it smashed the classroom door!!!!


Author notes

Approximately May 1969 Wembley Junior High School, changed my life.

Mr MacAuliffe was reading Edward Edward, parts of which you can hear interrupting my poem above.

That’s all