Awakening Of Schoolboys Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

He thought back to the days when boys would go
at recess to the half door boys' latrine,
one had to hold then pull the trigger so
that, once released, the stream would be so mean
it nudged the ceiling and would echo back at once
and showered (ill prepared) and local fathers' sons.

Time would rush past of course, it always did
and small moustaches grew, nights were for dreams,
no teacher wanted to hold down the lid
and trousers stretched at times beyond their seams.
There was a loggers' camp near the old mill
they'd meet to once again take aim and shoot
away from prying eyes well past the hill
there was such innocence, they were so cute!