Don't mention the holidays

Come hear the music in each child’s smile! 

Come feel the spirit as they sit and learn! 

Come watch the lights in their eyes stretch a mile! 

Come smell the speed as their busy pens burn! 

Come walk halls tiled with gold-plated pensions! 

Come turn taps filled with school-dinner custard! 

Come work six-hour days, no stress, no tensions! 

Come drink down Skivers’ Arms, never flustered! 

But, from the pub windows, I don’t see queues  

of applicants desperate for the chance 

to pass cold kettles and unused staff loos. 

I don’t taste envy of my circumstance. 

If I had ready meals for hungry minds, 

tell me, would I be more or less maligned?