Senior School Days 1956 -60 And 1968 Poem by stephen west

My mum and dad were Tories but the rest of the family reds.
Not Stalinists or Leninists just fair and square in their heads

The Internationale in three languages heartily sung.
And plenty of talk about brave men whose beliefs had got them hung.

Then I went to grammar school, all straight laced to the Right.
Left with no grey alternatives, only black and white.

I wanted to ask questions, my favourite word was “Why”
But ever shushed and marked down for any inquiry.

And punished more than several times for quoting Grandad’s word.
So always out of thirty three I just managed thirty third.

I left and read more books and learned what I wanted to ask.
The reasons, and the way things work, and history unmasked.

Later so much later I returned to that duff old school
Found my old headmaster there. “Now you thought me a fool,

But you never taught me “how” and “why”, just “what is what” in your eye”
Well here’s my Certificate, a Doctorate, the paper does not lie.”

He fumbled, shook and stammered and his voice was all ashake.
“In life you are allowed, “he said, “To make just one mistake”.

“We knew about your family. We knew they all were red.
I feared to be murdered one night, by you, while lying in my bed”

“That’s more than one mistake” I spat, “And if you really knew at all,
You’d know the likes of me prefer a line up ‘neath a wall”

“You hurt me, tried to break me and for years my anger burned..
Vengeance, these few seconds, is so sweet, now your lesson learned”.

“And you‘ve shown me granddad was so right. And so we’ll both retain
Never hurt another man (who doesn’t hurt you) again.”