Fancying girls in my class wasn’t cool,

Especially the one with the glasses,

So I resorted to playing the fool.

I pulled on your pigtails when I longed to pull you,

My wooing technique was appalling,

I longed to embrace you, but I couldn’t face you,

So I made do with childish name calling.

Oh ‘stinky bum’ we were only ten,

There was no chance of romance,

For I could never call you ‘my sweetheart’,

Only ‘specky four eyes poo poo pants’.

That was one of the many names

That I would pluck out from the air,

Name after name, oh the sin, oh the shame,

Every name except your name – ‘Claire’.

Lovely Claire, gentle Claire,

Were you ever remotely aware

That every hair on your head had me tossing in bed,

Had me grinning from ‘ere to there.

I could only muster school boy pranks

Instead of mustering kisses or hugs,

I should have given you chocolates or flowers

Instead of filling your satchel with bugs.

Claire, lovely Claire, you know life wasn’t fair

Though I hoped, when we grew, we’d get ‘pally’.

No, it wasn’t to be, for in junior three

A new girl had started called ‘Sally’.

Oh, Sally the lovely, Sally the gentle

Did you know that your legs, hair and face drove me mental.

I tried to behave more maturely,

I tried to give you a bit of a laugh,

But you just called me ‘stinky’

And ‘wee willy winky’

After all, we were ten – and a half.