Jonny from 9B (poem)

Never got on wi’ Shakespeare
Byron did nowt fa me
The only poet that I like is
Jonny from 9B

Sassoon sounds like a baboon
Wordsworth’s too wordy, you see
Nun a them ‘owds a candle
To Jonny from 9B

Coleridge couldn’t rime (or spell)
Rosen and Carroll ain’t fa me
Nun a them’s a patch
On Jonny from 9B

Dylan Thomas? Dad prefers Bob.
Larkin? Hughes? Big whoopee!
Nun a them’s fit to ‘owd a pencil
For Jonny from 9B

For Jonny’s a proper poet –
‘e makes sure all ‘is lines rhyme
Not just now an’ then
But time after time (after time)

‘e don’t bang on about love
An’ all that mushy stuff –
‘e tells us tales of scoring goals,
Playing pranks an’ acting tough.

All the teachers ‘ate ‘im
But Jonny – ‘e don’t care.
The playground’s ‘is stage
Telling tales wi’ style an’ flair

An’ for a precious few
Beneath that willow tree
A thousand dreams are dreamed
Through Jonny from 9B

2950646896_df73cb11fc_m
https://www.flickr.com/photos/sin_agua/2950646896 / Creative Commons

Note for non-British readers: this was written in a broad Yorkshire accent (think Sean Bean, or Arctic Monkeys). If you have someone from Yorkshire to hand, ask them to read it out loud to you. As someone who has married a Yorkshire lass, I can tell you the difficulty is not getting them to talk, but getting them to stop…

.

“9B” refers to the year and class that he is in – Jonny would be 13 or 14 years old.

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Author: Al Lane

Writer, Poet, Daydreamer

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