When I Was Small Poem by Phil Soar

When I was small and adults were tall, I used to pay attention
I used to be mischievous, and do things I couldn’t mention
And when it was my time for bed, my dad would read me tales
Of ghosts and ghouls and stupid fools, and horrible slimey snails

The daily taunts were more than fraught, with visions quite horrific
My mind was fed with tales so bad, which were really quite specific
My dad was like an uncoiled spring, when it came to family skills
He would take me to a garden shed, and then he’d take his pills

I would sit me on a wooden stool, to watch him carpentering
And then he would try and lance my ear, and fit it with an ear-ring
The oddness of these daily tasks was missed by social workers
And the fact his name was Yon Fong tu, and a member of the Gurkhas

So the morale of this oddly tale, is that nothing’s as it seems
I was young, with a problem that was broken up by dreams
Of ghost and ghouls and stupid fools, and soldiers armed with knives
It’s no wonder that I’m quite insane, and have been all my life