2002
Marc Flanagan, Aged 14
Yorkshire, UK
School Dinners
You're standing on a strawberry,
I heard the teacher say,
It was an end-of-term school dinner,
And we'd had strawberries that day.
You're standing on a strawberry,
And it isn't very good,
To put your great big feet,
In what's left of someone's pud!

You're sitting on a sausage,
And you're making such a mess,
That when you go home tonight,
Your mum will never guess,
What on earth you have been up to,
To get in such a state,
It really is much better,
To keep your dinner on a plate.

You've got your elbow in the custard,
And it's soaking up your sleeve,
And such a mess you're making,
No human could believe,
That one little bowl of custrd,
Could go so very far,
And I promise you my lad,
You'll get a belting from your ma.

You're slurping up the soup,
And you're spilling half your peas,
And there's a pencil and a ball-pen,
Embedded in the cheese,
Someone's dropped a plastic-spider,
Into the orange juice,
And teacher shouts for silence,
But it isn't any use.

It's just another dinnertime,
And it's very nearly done,
The battle of the servers,
Has been fought and lost, and won,
You scatter to the playground,
Where you run so wild and free,
Whilst the teachers in the staffroom,
Have a quiet cup of tea.

© 2002 Marc Flanagan - Contributed in March 2002