• I

    Wordsworth me, and then there's you,
    With no English GCSE,
    No matter what letter falls,
    You cannot reach the middle C,
    On the Keyboard between B and D,
    But neither of us can read music.,
    (We leave it for Mozart and the like.)

    Cynical, you may be about the final exam,
    And your lexis, SPELENG, you spell well,
    Considering in South Africa you fell,

    If all else fails, you have your hands to build,
    FUNCTIONAL too and Wordsworth Me, Da Vinci you.

    Whilst I admire the humble daffodil, dead in May,
    I watch you struggle, tired on poor pay.

    II

    My father built our house with his own bare hands,
    That kept me sheltered for thirteen years.
    He never had no,
    (A double negative used for emphasis)
    Qualifications and you have five.

    He died too young, and we are too young,
    The future doesn't seem so near,
    You worry about a GCSE but at eighteen,
    Darling we're going to go far.

    Me with my words and you with your hands,
    We'll set this world apart,
    You can make what I'll describe,
    And Darling we're going to go far.