It’s that time again

When the school holidays come round

And all sane adults go to ground

To avoid the pavement madness

Of the two-wheeled angry hordes

Swarming like demented wasps

Buzzing in and out, turn about

Up and down, round and round

The world flapping in their wake

All seeking somewhere to have their cake.

Perhaps W C Fields was right;

When asked his views on kids he cried

It all depends on whether they are boiled or fried.

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