The first day back, ay bitter cold it was.
And I tho' rugged and wrappered was a-cold,
Like boilèd spinach, was the playground grass,
Yellow our boots, y-clogged with goosey mould.
Malarious vapours over Goosey rolled.
Stale bread, bad butter, filled our hungry maw,
Damp were the sheets, huddled in frousty fold,
Loud forcèd laughter shook the form room floor
And pale and pinchèd boys peered down the corridor.