The pride of Mrs thingamabob

And her crew

So much food plopped on to plates

That rarely looked enticing

Hot and steaming a kitchen big enough

To cook and stew food for a fleet

Often steaming up her glasses

The queue moving slowly

Enough for me to chat to girls

And do what I always did

Play the fool

The court jester

To be verbally patted on the head

By these girls who were totally out of my league

 

The cabbage boiled to death

Just in case it made

A bid for freedom

Salads with lettuce an escaped tomato

And a few hardened peas

Curries that made my friend

Go completely red in the cheeks

Semolina with just a spot of jam

Creamy tadpoles on a plate

And the cooks revenge

Cold disgusting pink blancmange

That wobbled both on the plate

And in my stomach if I dare let it in

Mashed potato dispensed

In rounded ice cream scoops

But the best of all was

The hot steaming puddings

With something that passed for custard

 

Primary school was better

When we had, shepherd’s pie

With a thick browned and crusted topping

Cooked by the nuns

With whom

You would not argue

Served in great steaming metal dish’s

With real minced meat carrots and mashed potato’s

And stew that you could stand you spoon up in

Sponged puddings with real custard

Every so often having to abandon the main building

Because of the cracks in the walls were getting bigger

Perhaps they should have filled it

With the gravy applied in smoothed out lumps

With a trowel