Please Mrs Butler Read online

  THIS PUFFIN MODERN CLASSIC

  BELONGS TO

  For

  Elizabeth Attenborough

  Some reviews for Please Mrs Butler

  ‘One of the most famous school-life poetry collections… Ahlberg brings great authenticity, affection and compassion to his account of school days’ – The Times Educational Supplement

  ‘Pick of the bunch’ – The Times

  ‘Fritz Wegner’s pictures are a delight’ – Junior Bookshelf

  ‘The book’s appeal goes on and on and I know many teachers who have worn out three or four copies’ – Bookseller

  ‘The most important twentieth-century children’s poetry book’ – Books for Keeps poll

  ‘There can be few families in the British Isles who do not possess at least one well-thumbed Ahlberg’ – Independent on Sunday

  Other books by Allan Ahlberg

  Poetry and Jokes

  Friendly Matches

  The Ha Ha Bonk Book

  Heard it in the Playground

  The Mighty Slide

  Fiction for younger readers

  The Happy Families series

  Older Fiction

  The Bear Nobody Wanted

  The Better Brown Stories

  The Giant Baby

  The Improbable Cat

  Jeremiah in the Dark Woods

  My Brother’s Ghost

  Ten in a Bed

  Woof!

  Picture Books

  with Janet Ahlberg

  The Baby’s Catalogue

  Burglar Bill

  Bye Bye Baby

  Cops and Robbers

  Each Peach Pear Plum

  Funnybones

  It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

  The Jolly Postman

  The Jolly Christmas Postman

  The Jolly Pocket Postman

  Peepo!

  Starting School

  with André Amstutz

  The Fast Dog Slow Fox series

  with Raymond Briggs

  The Adventures of Bert

  A Bit More Bert

  with Fritz Wegner

  The little Cat Baby

  Please Mrs Butler

  ALLAN AHLBERG

  Illustrated by Fritz Wegner

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

  Penguin Books India (P) Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, Cnr Rosedale and Airborne Roads, Albany, Auckland, New Zealand

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  www.penguin.com

  First published by Kestrel Books 1983

  Published in Puffin Books 1984

  Published in Puffin Modern Classics 2003

  5

  Copyright © Allan Ahlberg, 1983

  Illustrations copyright © Fritz Wegner, 1983

  Introduction copyright © Julia Eccleshare, 2003

  All rights reserved

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-0-14-192803-6

  Introduction

  by Julia Eccleshare

  Puffin Modern Classics series editor

  Allan Ahlberg likes school and, as a former teacher, he knows a lot about it. In these kindly and witty poems, he reveals all the best and worst details of both classroom and playground – and revels in them. The ignominy when it comes to being chosen last for a team in ‘Picking Teams’ and the potential shame that might be brought about by the visit of the school nurse on one of her regular nit searches in ‘School Nurse’ are just two of the embarrassing moments almost everyone has experienced and which Allan Ahlberg lightly portrays. Then there’s the full range and ridiculousness of the myriad excuses that are offered for not doing homework as relayed in ‘Excuses’ while, in a completely contrasting mood and most poignantly, he highlights the enveloping gloom of the struggling reader in ‘Slow Reader’.

  But it’s not just how school seems to pupils that concerns Allan Ahlberg. Without ever speaking down to the real audience, he also captures the feelings of the teachers, with whom adult readers are bound to sympathize.

  Allan Ahlberg has an exceptional ability to take you right back to the classroom and playground – and it may not always be easy to escape. There are endless projects to be finished, tricks to be played on unsuspecting supply teachers and a list of missing things that seems to be growing longer.

  Whatever the subject – even ‘Slow Reader’ – all the poems are injected with a refreshingly positive attitude and, as a result, Please Mrs Butler makes school a place of creativity and fun.

  Contents

  SCHOOL TIME

  Please Mrs Butler

  Back to School

  Slow Reader

  There’s a Fish Tank

  Supply Teacher

  Emma Hackett’s Newsbook

  Who Knows?

  Blame

  Glenis

  The School Nurse

  Small Quarrel

  Headmaster’s Hymn

  As I was Coming to School

  PLAY TIME

  Complaint

  Swops

  Picking Teams

  If I Wasn’t Me

  I Did a Bad Thing Once

  Old Joke

  The Gang

  DINNER TIME

  When I was Young

  Sometimes God

  It is a Puzzle

  Dog in the Playground

  SCHOOL TIME AGAIN

  Scissors

  The Cane

  Excuses

  Eating in Class

  Reading Test

  Colin

  Only Snow

  The Runners

  The Ordeal of Robin Hood

  Do a Project

  Lost

  School is Great

  Now the Day is Over

  HOME TIME

  Balls on the Roof

  The Challenge

  Our Mother

  Haircut

  Is That Your Apple?

  Scabs

  Bedtime

  SCHOOL TIME

  Please Mrs Butler

  Please Mrs Butler

  This boy Derek Drew

  Keeps copying my work, Miss.

  What shall I do?

  Go and sit in the hall, dear.

  Go and sit in the sink.

  Take your books on the roof, my lamb.

  Do whatever you think.

  Please Mrs Butler

  This boy Derek Drew

  Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.

  What shall I do?

  Keep it in your hand, dear.

  Hide it up your vest.

  Swallow it if you like, my love.

  Do what you think best.

  Please Mrs Butler

  This boy Derek Drew

  Keeps calling me rude names, Miss.

  What shall I do?

  Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.

 
Run away to sea.

  Do whatever you can,my flower.

  But don’t ask me!

  Back to School

  In the last week of the holidays

  I was feeling glum.

  I could hardly wait for school to start;

  Neither could mum.

  Now we’ve been back a week,

  I could do with a breather.

  I can hardly wait for the holidays;

  Teacher can’t either.

  Slow Reader

  I – am – in – the – slow

  read – ers – group – my – broth

  er – is – in – the – foot

  ball – team – my – sis – ter

  is – a – ser – ver – my

  lit – tie – broth – er – was

  a – wise – man – in – the

  in – fants – christ – mas – play

  I – am – in – the — slow

  read – ers – group – that — is

  all – I – am – in – I

  hate – it.

  There’s a Fish Tank

  There’s a fish tank

  In our class

  With no fish in it;

  A guinea-pig cage

  With no guinea-pig in it;

  A formicarium

  With no ants in it;

  And according to Miss Hodge

  Some of our heads

  Are empty too.

  There’s a stock-cupboard

  With no stock,

  Flowerpots without flowers,

  Plimsolls without owners,

  And me without a friend

  For a week

  While he goes on holiday.

  There’s a girl

  With no front teeth,

  And a boy with hardly any hair

  Having had it cut.

  There are sums without answers,

  Paintings unfinished,

  And projects with no hope

  Of ever coming to an end.

  According to Miss Hodge

  The only thing that’s brim-full

  In our class

  Is the waste-paper basket.

  Supply Teacher

  Here is the rule for what to do

  Whenever your teacher has the flu,

  Or for some other reason takes to her bed

  And a different teacher comes instead.

  When this visiting teacher hangs up her hat,

  Writes the date on the board, does this or that,

  Always remember, you must say this:

  ‘Our teacher never does that, Miss!’

  When you want to change places or wander about,

  Or feel like getting the guinea-pig out,

  Never forget, the message is this:

  ‘Our teacher always lets us, Miss!’

  Then, when your teacher returns next day

  And complains about the paint or clay,

  Remember these words, you just say this:

  ‘That other teacher told us to, Miss!’

  Emma Hackett’s Newsbook

  Last night my mum

  Got really mad

  And threw a jam tart

  At my dad.

  Dad lost his temper

  Then with mother,

  Threw one at her

  And hit my brother.

  My brother thought

  It was my sister,

  Threw two at her

  But somehow missed her.

  My sister,

  She is only three,

  Hurled four at him

  And one at me!

  I said I wouldn’t

  Stand for that,

  Aimed one at her

  And hit the cat.

  The cat jumped up

  Like he’d been shot,

  And landed

  In the baby’s cot.

  The baby –

  Quietly sucking his thumb –

  Then started howling

  For my mum.

  At which my mum

  Got really mad,

  And threw a Swiss roll

  At my dad.

  Who Knows?

  I know

  Something you don’t know.

  No, you don’t,

  I know it.

  You don’t know it.

  How could you know it!

  Nobody knows it,

  Only me.

  I just know it.

  Prove it, then.

  Tell me what I know.

  Tell yourself.

  Why should I tell you?

  You’re the one

  Who knows it.

  Yes, but you don’t know it!

  You prove it.

  I can’t prove it.

  How can I prove it?

  If I tell you what I know

  You’ll say you know it already.

  I do know it already.

  Well, you prove it.

  No, I can’t prove it.

  If I tell you what I know

  You know,

  You’ll change it to something else.

  No, I won’t.

  If you tell me

  What you know I know,

  I’ll know if you know it.

  Yes, but I won’t know!

  That’s all right.

  Then I’ll know

  Something you don’t know.

  Blame

  Graham, look at Maureen’s leg,

  She says you tried to tattoo it!

  I did, Miss, yes – with my biro,

  But Jonathan told me to do it.

  Graham, look at Peter’s sock,

  It’s got a burn-hole through it!

  It was just an experiment, Miss, with the lens.

  Jonathan told me to do it.

  Alice’s bag is stuck to the floor,

  Look, Graham, did you glue it?

  Yes, but I never thought it would work,

  And Jonathan told me to do it.

  Jonathan, what’s all this I hear

  About you and Graham Prewitt?

  Well, Miss, it’s really more his fault:

  He tells me to tell him to do it!

  Glenis

  The teacher says:

  Why is it, Glenis,

  Please answer me this,

  The only time

  You ever stop talking in class

  Is if I ask you

  Where’s the Khyber Pass?

  Or when was the Battle of Waterloo?

  Or what is nine times three?

  Or how do you spell

  Mississippi?

  Why is it, Glenis,

  The only time you are silent

  Is when I ask you a question?

  And Glenis says:

  The School Nurse

  We’re lining up to see the nurse

  And in my opinion there’s nothing worse.

  It is the thing I always dread.

  Supposing I’ve got nits in my head.

  I go inside and sit on the chair.

  She ruffles her fingers in my hair.

  I feel my face getting hot and red.

  Supposing she finds nits in my head.

  It’s taking ages; it must be bad.

  Oh, how shall I tell my mum and dad?

  I’d rather see the dentist instead

  Than be the one with nits in his head.

  Then she taps my arm and says, ‘Next please!’

  And I’m out in the corridor’s cooling breeze.

  Yet still I can feel that sense of dread.

  Supposing she had found nits in my head.

  Small Quarrel

  She didn’t call for me as she usually does.

  I shared my crisps with someone else.

  I sat with someone else in assembly.

  She gave me a funny look coming out.

  I put a pencil mark on her maths book.

  She put a felt pen mark on mine.

  She moved my ruler an inch.

  I moved hers a centimetre.
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  I just touched her PE bag with my foot.

  She put the smallest tip of her tongue out.

  She dipped her paint brush in my yellow.

  I washed mine in her paint water.

  She did something too small to tell what it was.

  I pretended to do something.

  I walked home with her as usual.

  She came to my house for tea.

  Headmaster’s Hymn

  (to be sung)

  When a knight won his spurs

  In the stories of old,

  He was – ‘Face the front, David Briggs,

  What have you been told?’

  With a shield on his arm

  And a lance in his – ‘Hey!

  Is that a ball I can see?

  Put – it – a – way.’

  No charger have I

  And –‘No talking back there.

  You’re supposed to be singing,

  Not combing your hair.’

  Though back into storyland

  Giants have – ‘Roy,

  This isn’t the playground,

  Stop pushing that boy!’

  Let faith be my shield

  And – ‘Who’s eating sweets here?

  I’m ashamed of you, Marion,

  It’s not like you dear.’

  And let me set free

  With – ‘Please stop that, Paul King.

  This is no place for whistlers,

  We’d rather you sing!’

  As I was Coming to School

  As I was coming to school, Sir,

  To learn my ABC,

  I was picked up and put in a sack, Sir,

  And carried off on his back, Sir,

  By a Russian who took me to sea.

  So I had to swim all the way back, Sir,

  And I still had my legs in the sack,Sir,

  And the waves they were forty foot high, Sir,

  Which is really the reason why, Sir –

  I would not tell a lie, Sir –

  I’m late for school today.

  Is it all right to go out to play?

  PLAY TIME