…with apologies to Philip Larkin.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

[These be the extra verses, by Angie Vennells]

But if you do, just keep your head
And don’t repeat those old mistakes
You’ll find new ones to make instead
But honesty is what it takes
To break the mould
And then, when you are very old,
And they are soppy-stern with you
Tell them it could have been much worse
Had you not read ‘This be the verse’

They’ll think you’re muttering, of course,
And say, at best, that you’re confused
At worst, you’re fucked up in the head
They might be callously amused
And then you’ll see the tide has turned
And ponder over lessons learned.