Breaktime

Some joke it was,
what a buzz,
entertainment in the yard,
free and all,
better than any teacher
boring the arse out of yer pants.
What was it?
A tramp came and danced,
yes, he danced for us
a drunken jig,
a happy jig
and we all gathered and cheered,
cheered for the tramp.
Weird it was, weird
but we cheered,
centre of attention,
better than the telly anyday.
He threw his lighter on the ground,
so he did,
knocked back his Pernod in a gulp.
We cheered more and more.
I thought he'd strip,
still, he was probably too cold.
Drunk as a skunk,
as happy as a pig in shit,
in his own shit,
thankfully not mine.
Then the bell rang
and broke the spell:
more Maths and French -
nothing to cheer about!

^

Biography

Born Roscrea Co. Tipperary, teacher in an inner city secondary school in Dublin. I have had some poetry published before, once in Poetry Ireland Review, also in Rathmines Writers' Group publication Wings and several times in Riposte. Outside this I have published many articles on educational matters in Issues in Education, Studies, The Furrow and Céide.