Just A Schoolboy At Preschool Poem by Mark Heathcote

New generations, they're arguing all the time.
Old Generations, they look down the line
And they see an orderly line
From the moment you too opened your eyes
You too were subscribed-

Whether your hands are rough or smooth,
Generations, they're changing places all the time
When you're old, you can't fix a leaky roof.
So you grunt at the youth of a young man who can:
Who never did see how fast as a child you ran.

How high, back then you could leap into the sky,
How bare-fisted you could deal with a thief.
It's a natural incline of the fool to becoming wise.
And the old wise man to once again decline
Look back; see he's still just a schoolboy at preschool.