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A Bully Tale.

 

I was threatened by a bully, should’ve bopped him on the head,

A true blue Aussie bully with his hair of flaming red.

He had those big brown freckles and a snarl to make me cry,

He even had a sling shot to shoot out my good eye.                      

 

He wore old coarse rough trousers, tied up with twisted rope,

He swore such awful cusses they would lump up in my throat,

He smelt of sweat and horsehair, with unkempt shaggy locks,

Unwashed and sort of greasy, and shoes without the sox.

 

He looked like Tiger Kelly from my childhood comic days

No care had he for anyone “I’ll git ya!” was his phrase,

My heart would shake and quiver when he crossed across the street

And bar my way until I dropped my lollies at his feet.

 

I ran from him to shelter under culverts overhead,

I cried a lot and blubbed a lot, my eyes were cherry red

Both mum and dad were comforting when listening to my fears

“It’s off to bed, it’s over now, so wipe away your tears.”

​

So I wish that I could find him, a bully through and through,

But then there’s no use wondering all the things that I might do,

He was just a poor lost loser with a sad and empty heart,

He’d make you pull his finger, then laugh and laugh and fart.

​

But today’s most dreadful bullies are not like that at all,

They have sophistication, not rough and tough and brawl,

For iPhones are their weapons to bring you to your knees,

They’ll let you join their group today, they have to hear “Yes please.”

 

They always seem good looking, and sort of sporty too,

They wear the latest fashion and top designer shoes,

Their hair is styled and shiny for they have to look their best

To stand out from the others, then be like all the rest.

                                                               

They use home grown psychology to get inside your skin,

They’re nice as pie, so friendly, until you let them in,

But then without a warning you’ll find your secrets spilled

Across the social media, you’ve been an awful dill.

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The party on the weekend when selfies were the rage

And everyone was talking as though they’re on a stage,

The laughter kept on coming and the flattery was sweet,

At last you felt like one of them, but you were just dead meat.

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So first you’re disinvited from the coming Friday gig

And you respond light heartedly, you couldn’t give a fig,

But the fun they had without you was there for all to see

You sat alone by your iPhone for the call to never be.

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Then school becomes a nightmare for there’s nowhere safe to hide

The teachers are too busy now to listen or take sides

The words they use if questioned are “Can’t even take a joke,

It’s just a game, just having fun, we never said she’d croak.”

​

They persist with pointing fingers, sideways glances, silly grins,

There’s always lots of gig-e-ling, uplifting of the chin,

And eyes that look right past you as for them you don’t exist

“You pimped on us you stupid cow, next time you’ll get a fist!”

​

But worst of all is late at night beneath the bedroom sheets,

The internet goes viral with your Facebook and your Tweets,

All your secrets and shortcomings that were private to a few

Are spread across the universe, it’s back into the loo.

​

For eating’s not an option when they keep on calling FAT!

Or Skinny Legs or Thumpy Toe.  “She’d make an awful splat!”

So on and on through night and day they keep the pressure on

And sad becomes depression and all hope is almost gone.

​

If  Ginger Meggs could manage all those Tiger Kelly jibes

You too can still get back on top and to the other side.

Turn off your phone, or better still go toss it in the drink

And laugh at your stupidity, it’s time for that rethink.

 

 

And use your wit to turn around their stupid slurs and jibes 

Agree they have such cleverness to judge you from outside

With self effacing humour you might cause them to ask why

They really want to hurt you, to hate you, make you cry.

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And heed the words of poets there’s so many that do write

Like Adam Lindsay Gordon, just so sad and full of strife.

He wrote of froth and bubbles, and two things that stand like stone,

Your kindness when there’s trouble, and your courage in your own.

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So choose your friends most wisely, for you need just one or two

To share your dreams and have some fun,to listen when you’re blue

And in return share kindness and an ear to listen well

And say to your tormentors, good riddance and farewell.

 

 

 

Homework, Homework.

 

Have you done your homework, homework? Can you get a move on dear

And leave the fridge, get to your room so homework I can hear,

It’s costing us a fortune just to send you off to school

So “Get your homework finished!” is this family’s golden rule.

 

Now Mum and Dad research has proved, it’s true without a doubt

That homework is a waste of time, it’s time to call it out,

It takes away the time us kids could do so many things

Like helping you around the house, or learning how to sing.

 

It’s time I could be spending with a vacuum cleaner now 

Or helping peel some vegies if you’d only show me how

I could clean the budgie cage out and feed the cat and dog

If you’d let me have some time out as my homework’s such a slog

 

I could wash the car and tidy out the garage just for fun

Or walk the dog or do a shop, or play out in the sun

Or take out our recyclebles and put them in the bin

Just so much time that I would have you’d even see me grin.

 

I could mow the footpath out the front, now that would be a sight

Have time to set the table up for dinner every night

I’d love to clear the dishes when the meal is finished too

And pack the old dish washer, or clean around the loo. 

 

I’d have the time to meet some friends and play down in the park

Enjoy some healthy fun filled games, be home before it’s dark

But my homework time just robs me of these many useful things

It makes us all feel grumpy when we could be doing things.

 

I’d have the time to make my bed, and tidy up my room

And time to sweep the patio if I could find the broom

I’d even hose the driveway down and blow the leaves away

If I didn’t have to waste my time with homework every day.

 

On considering it further, I’ll take back all I said

For I have just so much homework that it’s doing in my head

I’ll go straight to my room now and turn computer on

With headphones I can listen to all my favourite songs.

 

So call me when it’s dinner time for I’ll be hungry then

I enjoy so much my homework so I’ll say it once again

I’d love to help around the house to pass away the time

But I’ll work hard on my homework, and end this little rhyme.

 

Barrington Lloyd-Jones Esq

29/03./2020

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Barrington’s Pocket Money.

 

Hey Dad I need some money so that I can buy a phone,

I’m sick of always borrowing, I need one of my own,

I’d be so good for days on end, you see I need more cash 

As the pocket money that I get won’t spread as far as that.

 

Well we can have a look at that, the pocket money part,

You get ten dollars every week and that’s just for a start,

Your mother runs you off to school and picks you up at three

As you won’t walk or ride your bike, for that would be for free.

 

When weekends come the taxi runs to soccer, gym and golf,

Your friends pile in, you have such fun and that’s just more free stuff.

Then Maccas on the homeward stretch, it all adds up you know,

But for your ten you get each week there isn’t much to show.

 

Around the house no bed you’ll make, though that’s a daily task

And just to tidy up your room Mum shouldn’t have to ask.

The grass is almost knee high now, your job at least each week,

Dishwasher too is still unpacked, I checked it as we speak.

 

Won’t set the table unless told, won’t clear up after dinner,

So for ten bucks you’re in fine form, you really are a winner.

You argue with your sister over every little chore 

The problems that we have to sort invariably are yours.

 

About that raise in pocket dosh I think that’s worth a look,

We’ll start with fifty big ones and we’ll write them in a book,

But to be fair we’ll debit all the extras that you get, 

But leave out food and medicines, we haven’t finished yet.

 

To wash your clothes it costs a heap, there’s bathroom stuff as well,

No charge for clothes or holidays and more that I could tell,

We won’t include your school fees nor the presents for your friends

Or text books or that new back pack, nor other things we spend. 

 

But to be fair with rising costs a budget’s hard to track,

We’ll throw in weekly tuckshop so you won’t be paying that

Or all the many extras like to fix your broken bike

Or music lessons, guitar strings, the amplifier mike.

 

So lets’ begin with transport and the cost to get about,

Each weekend’s trips we’ll round to ten and that should see us out.

To school each day at two each trip will be another ten,

And ten to cover internet and games you have to rent.

 

To register to play your sports is quite a hefty sum

So ten will hardly cover them, your exercise and fun.

I think that’s forty off the top before we look again

I think you are well on top, I’d hold onto your ten.

 

I know you wanted to suggest a raise in pocket cash

From what I’ve said and looked real hard I think you’ve done your dash

A family should be all about us working in together,

In good or bad and in between, in any sort of weather.

 

We think we’re more than generous to shell out ten each week

For what we get in its return is very poor, it’s weak,

You need another income source to give you what you need

Try burger places for a job, as well you get a feed.

 

Well Dad you’ve set me back a bit, I’d never thought that way,

I’m just a kid who only wants to have some fun and play.

I guess I’ve been ungrateful when you lay it out like that

But for my birthday coming up, how 'bout a cricket bat?

 

                                                                        Barrington-Lloyd Jones, September, 2020.

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A Fisherman’s Tale.

 

This chap I knew went out to sea

To catch some fish, fetch back for tea

But luck was gone when bait ran out

“You little thieves!” I heard him shout.

 

So sitting in his boat perplexed

What could he do?  he wondered next

A callous on his toe might be

A bait for fish, take back for tea

 

Then deftly sliced with hook attached

To this great man there was no match

A tiny fish then cut in half

“I know how it will make them laugh!”

 

For then his luck and tide both turned

For by sunset, you’re pleased to learn

Boat filled with fish of every sort

From one last try they all were caught

 

Though true you think this tale is not

Of it I’m sure, I don’t write rot

A photo of his toe I took

A callous on a sharpened hook.

 

So don’t give up when things get tough

Advice and help is not enough

Just dig real deep and think askew

I’ll have to leave, it’s up to you.

 

Good fishing.

Barrington Lloyd-Jones - 2022

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A Bubbling Tale.

Remember Johnny Appleseed of wandering planting fame

Whose Apple trees from sacks of seeds have grown where e’er he came?

Inspired by him I bought myself a massive bubble pipe

And set about to plant the world with seeds of every type.

 

The slime to make the bubbles huge and float high in the sky

I tested and I tested as I blew and watched them fly

And colours for each seed I chose, the greens, the reds and blues

Were mixed and stirred with vigour as I seeded up my brew

 

And millions of fine seeds I’d scrounged were added to by colour 
Bananas, Pines, Tomatoes, all my bubbles they did cover

And so I set off in my ute with trusty bubble pipe 

And blew and puffed most every day from morning into night

 

Pine forests from my bubbles now are there for all to see

Plantations of bananas, more, I even planted tea

Across the land, across the world you’ll see my Bubble Crops

If Santa Claus you still believe you might believe my rot.

 

Barrington Lloyd-Jones esq – 09/01/ 2025

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Our Lovely Schools, so sad.

           Where have all the teachers gone, long time passing?

          Where have all the teachers gone, long time ago?

          Where have all the teachers gone, gone from fear and strain and strife,

                             Searching for a better life

          When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?

 

          Where have all the children gone, long time passing?           

          Where have all the children gone, long time ago?

          Where have all the children gone, gone from being left behind,

                            So distressed and losing minds*

         When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?

 

I thought I’d start a movement, from which I won’t retreat,

For kids and teachers that I knew whose lives were incomplete

They’d had a gutful of the way they had to manage school

And anyone with any nouse just had to break the rules.

 

The rules are set from way up high in two great realms we know

Our politicians and their mates with power they had to show

And all religions piled on board, John Howard, the gate swung free

And all the funding offered them they claimed in ’lightful glee

 

So if you get to wondering what’s all the fuss about

Just wind your clocks back thirty years, there really is no doubt,

The Global Education, GERM, no parents got to see 

From Thatcher, Reagan, our John Howard, became reality

 

For standardising knowledge that is there for all to share

But Data, Data, every day, the teachers tear their hair. 

Who’d question the stupidity of “One size fits the lot”

It’s time for parents, teachers, kids, to end this silly rot

 

Our nation’s great inequity, the curse of life, we know

Has driven wedges wide and deep, they’re everywhere on show

We lost our bedrock learning blocks, our schools all pulled apart

But no one that I’ve spoken to imagines a new start

 

For ACARA with its plan complete, four strings to bow attached**

Dictates the terms at every turn whose backs will best be scratched

For funding is the weapon that dictates each school’s success

Religious and the private schools keep clear of any mess

 

The National Curriculum, a dreadful dross idea

From Julie Bishop’s politics she loved for us to hear

John Dawkins years before destroyed out teacher training paths

And all our universities just laughed and laughed and laughed!

 

So soon along came NAPLAN, Julia Gillard got the blame 

It, with MySchool, the web site dear, all set to fix the game

For Parent Choice, the Holy Grail, John Howard had set in stone

If you had means and plentiful, you’d never be alone.

 

And so our great inequity so quickly surged ahead

No Private School to boast about, you might as well be dead

For business is the game of schools, you need the cash to win

And those without? Most every day? Just tossed into the bin

 

Though hist’ry shows, for we all know, when kids are left behind

The generation that they fill will likely be unkind

They’ll steal your cars and sell you drugs and pornify your lives

For they have nought to lose, or give, “Just lock ‘em up!” you cry

 

*You may question ‘losing minds’. Mental health issues and the provision of psychologists in our schools is a phenomenon of the recent years. Never before have we heard “Wellbeing” associated with almost every aspect of society, driven by our young whose exploitation by our education system and the wider society at large is actually driving many of our kids mad.

 

** ACARA’s four strings are The National Curriculum, NAPLAN, the MySchool website and Parent Choice.

 

Our current system was created for the societies of the Industrial Revolution, 1848 being the first year that children were grouped in classes according to their chronological age, which continues to this day. We are well into the phase of the Info-Technological Revolution yet our education system is stuck in a model way past its very best days of serving the society for which it was designed.  If you are content with about 60% of kids coping, in whichever way you define ‘coping’ I wonder what you would consider doing with the 40% who aren’t. In some schools it is much higher.

 

                        Then you may like to sing along to:

           Where have all the teachers gone, long time passing?

          Where have all the teachers gone, long time ago?

          Where have all the teachers gone, gone from fear and strain and strife,

                             Searching for a better life

          When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?

 

          Where have all the children gone, long time passing?           

          Where have all the children gone, long time ago?

          Where have all the children gone, gone from being left behind,

                            So distressed and losing minds

         When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?

                                                          Barrington Lloyd-Jones esq 14/01/2025

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When Clancy did NAPLAN.

 

I have written you a letter for the want of something better

For it’s Christmas time I’m hearing and old Santa’s on his way

So I hope that you’ve been saving all your chocolate pudding cravings

As the diet we tried, abandoned, we shall try another day.

 

And the presents oh so splendid ‘neath the tree that Kmart sended

All look and feel so sumptuous, must have cost a mint it’s true,

As I write these many pages, seems we haven’t met in ages

But our thoughts are with you daily as we battle NAPLAN through

 

If it’s not the aging pension or the taxes bringing tension

It’s the super that they’ve fiddled or some gearing negative

And my kindly member Dutton serves up tripe instead of mutton

And the refugees are anxious, if not Manus, where to live?

 

And our education Simon, with some luck should be a pie man 

For his thoughts on schools and teachers are enough to make one cry

And he’ll stress our PISA failures, spending money was no saviour

For old Gonski got the boot it seems, he got it long ago.

 

So now the year has ended and my drinking arm’s extended

For the bottle on the high shelf wife has hidden from me well

For it’s enough to make one anxious, Malcolm promised not to spank us

But the diatribe of Abbot!!  Seems he’s joined him in the queue.

 

And now I sit distended for the Christmas pudding’s ended 

And the chocolate sauce and ice cream dribble down my chin as well.

Much delusion, Clancy found some, so from school he packed and ran from.

NAPLAN sent him off a’droving and he’s better off by far.

 

BarringtonLloyd-Jones esq

Happy Christmas, 2016

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The Noose of Drugs.

 

Suppose I was to say to you “Stand up on this tall stool

           and from above I’ll noose your neck” you’d take me for a fool,

As no one in their thoughtful mind would ever take me up.

            But drugs say that, day in, day out, so better listen up.

 

Your brain is like no other, whether living or long gone,

            For you’re unique in every way, no one can sing your song.

So why would you enhance it with a substance whose effect

            may give you highs, may give you lows, your brain will surely wreck.

 

For once you’ve taken your first taste who knows where it may lead?

            A sudden urge may take from you your brain’s most awful greed.

You’ll never know the chance you take when setting down this course

            For are you sure your brain can cope with such a dreadful force?

            

And those who do persuade you with “Go on, give it a try!

            It’s worth the trip, most glorious. Would I tell you a lie?”

Peer pressure is the awful cost of losing mates and friends,

           Remember though it’s your great brain that matters in the end.

 

So stand you might on this tall stool, noose loose about your neck,

            It’s safe up there, the window wide, most glorious sights, but heck

If you should choose to dabble drugs and be the perfect fool

           Expect some pills or dust or smoke will kick away your stool.

 

Barrington Lloyd-Jones esq – Nov 2024

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