A Little Schooling...

It was the center of my childish days        
replete with gas-lit streets and killer smog,        
the walls, black-soot-pitted from acid rain,        
and outside toilets where, sometimes, we'd snog...        
        
But the hand-basins now just reach my thigh    
and the rough Izal toilet paper, gone,        
along with coal-tar soap this stung my eyes  
but I recall we chorused great school songs,        
        
and weaved gay candy-striped maypole ribbons        
as to the ' keel row ' we high-stepped a reel,      
or throwing snow-balls with sodden mittens        
or taught each slow dance steps spooned toe to heel...        
        
And screeching clattering desks, high-pitched voice        
But scent of forget-me-nots, past the noise...