Poetry

Trade School

I went to trade school last week
And learnt some tradie stuff
Like fixing holes and cracks with bog
Can be just plain old tough

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I could tell you what I learnt
When theory class came round
And how enamel paint will stink
You six feet under ground

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I won’t go on and bore you
With all the tools I used
I’d probably botch that lesson up
And you’d end up confused

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But let’s just say I’m now real smart
A wizz my head’s become
Then the Boss asked, ‘Whad you learn?’
And my reply was, ‘Ummmmmmmm…’

xx The Girl in Trousers

Poem inspired by my jammed packed week of tradie knowledge, surrounded by manly classmates in a manly environment. And I still managed not to hack once.

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