POEM: Bolton Bobby Dazzler

When I was four and a half I started infant school
And I never dreamt of playing or acting the fool.

I enjoyed every minute from nine o’clock till three,
A Bolton Bobby Dazzler, my Grandad would call me.

But seven years later when I left my little school
I was sent to senior school where many played the fool.

There I dreaded every minute until half past three,
Because of the BULLY BOYS who kept tormenting me.

For weeks I felt so miserable I just wanted to die
But when they stopped quite suddenly, I soon discovered why.
Grandad had become mentor for readers who were ‘SLOW’
Those hours he helped bullies read, helped me much more I know.

You see twelve years later, I now teach at my infant school,
And none of my pupils ever play wag or act the fool.

They all enjoy their lessons, each day till half past three,
The real Bolton Bobby Dazzler was Grandad – not me!