.
.
Learn Now, Learn Now, Young Master
‘Learn now, learn now, young master;
You soon will take your test.
The books to learn are plenty;
You need to do your best;
No time to take a rest.
Your marriage is awaiting;
A house you have to buy.
Keep on the hard kept labour;
You must not be work shy;
She is the reason why.
The children need their feeding;
‘Oh father what’s to eat?’.
The bills that hit the doormat
You mustn’t fail to meet;
Or you’ll be in the street.
They must now go to college,
But it will cost a price.
They need a good foundation,
Or they must feed on mice;
And that won’t be so nice.
One day you’ll have the chance
To find beneath the clay,
A refuge for your tired soul,
But you must find a way
To provide for those who stay’.
.
.
Gary Borck is from the UK. He teaches in China and has been fully published in the Society of Classical Poets and Grand Little Things.
A sweet life lesson for every boy who eventually becomes a man, Gary. Nicely done.
Except for the term “young master,” I felt you were addressing the young me in the poem. Though I must confess: after all these years, I still feel I have a lot to learn, and don’t have mastery over anything.
Best regards.
Dear Paddy,
I know what you mean about not being a master. It reminds me of the saying, ‘Jack of all trades; master of none!’.
It is a life lesson, but unfortunately, many of us understand this later than we should.
Thanks Paddy.
These are good life lessons that should be taught early to every young boy. In my case, I was a farm boy who learned to drive a tractor, help stack shocks of corn and oats, milked cows, and tossed hay at the age of six. The work ethic of young boys on a farm is hard to duplicate in city surroundings. I had an early savings account with the small funds I earned. My mother paid me a nickel for every fly I killed, I was paid a pittance for the chores I performed, and I was taught to tithe ten percent of my earnings. I was included in family discussions about the monthly mortgage payment on the farm, budgeting for food and clothes, and saving for a new couch or chair. My grandfather had me decide by the age of 12 what profession I would work toward in life and was taught the need to attend a university to succeed. By the time I was a teenager I was already prepared for the rest of life. Your poem is filled with all the requirements to have a happy life and reminds me of my journey. I even mapped out my life in advance including what I could physically do, what I could mentally do, having the goal of teaching later one, and what I could do once retired, which was write.
Wow, that’s amazing. I wish someone had taught me and my fellow Gen Xers these things when we were young. We were not taught anything remotely like it. Our happy hippy left liberal parents and teachers taught us to go by what feels right, and that we can do anything we want to do, which is obviously a lie in hindsight. Oddly, my mother also told me once that I would have to have a career which I hate, in order to make money, so I can afford to pay for what I enjoy doing. I was never able to wrap my head around this concept.
Our German grandparents were so weighed down by their collective feelings of guilt over WWII that they never offered any advice at all.
I guess when God’s law and way is replaced with moral relativism, objective truth gets replaced with subjective experience and fanciful thinking coming directly from the father of lies.
Roy, you were very fortunate to have such an upbringing. It harkens back to “ye olden tymes”. Young men were apprenticed in trades, and by the time they reached their late teens, they were no longer boys, but men who assumed adult responsibilities. Gary’s poem instills some of those early lessons.
That is an astute and perfect comparison with being an apprentice. I appreciate your thoughts, Cheryl.
Roy, that is wonderful. I think there are few, who in their youth have such a vision of their future life. I certainly didn’t. I did have an early morning paper round between the age of 12-15. That gave me a base for the discipline of getting up early and working in trying conditions (dangerous dogs and all kinds of weathers). Your post is very inspiring.
Thank you, Gary! I was blessed with good parents and relatives!
The work ethic made poetic… and how grim it will sound in the wondrous Western world of welfare… an ever-bounteous system that beckons… then bites. I can hear the snarl through the cloying coos of “care”. A poem that makes me wonder why?… always a good thing. Thank you, Gary.