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T’  UNIVERSITY  ER  T’  THIRD  DEGREE 
…  OR  SUMMAT  LIKE  THAT  !

 

A University, ah thowt ?  At my age – a degree ?
A’ve got mi bus pass !  Chuffin’ ’ell – that’s nowt to do wi’ me !

An’ then this this bloke, ’e tells me: “Nay – it’s nowt like that at all !”
“Tha moan’t be gerrin’ werried – just ’av’ thissen a ball !”

“It’s wot thi call ’ole-istic (but nowt to do wi’ oyls)”
“Soul an’ mind an’ body ­– not like them rotten schoyls”

“Tha cud do belly-dancin’ (or maybe just spectate)” (Eyup!)
“Or walkin’, singin’, crown-green bowls – A’m tellin’ theh, it’s great !”

“Tha’s access to a lawyer, all day an’ ev’ry day”
(Aar - just wot thaa cud do wee !) – an’ not a bean ter pay”

“An’ ev’ryone’s that friendly, tha’ll mek a load o’ pals”
(Aar, theerz anuther thing tha’ll find a lot less blokes than gals !)

“Of coorse, thi’z tuns er culture – but that wayn’t be fer thee”
“Ten quid a year, an’ after that, t’ vast bulk er t’ stuff is free !”

An’ so A took ’im up – and goodness me, would you credit it, only a few years down the line,
I am now perorating with the mellifluous erudite fluency of an Oxford professor of philosophy but alas, I can no longer make my utterances scan properly, nor, for that matter, even rhyme !

©   Paul R. Whyman  (R-hymin’ W-hyman)