If…

If you can keep your cool when Mum and Dad are leaving,

Wishing you farewell with trembling lips and firm handshake

If you can stand upright and not flinch

when all about you jockey for position

rough you up on the pitch and jostle you in the changing rooms

If you can trust yourself not to weep

when all alone and longing for your sleep

If you can holler with the rest of them, sing the hymns and snigger at Jones’s shoes
If you can hate and not let hatred show its ugly face

Or lie, especially to point the finger elsewhere

and not be lied about yourself

By playing the clown and striking first before they pick on you

And yet take care not to look too good, nor talk too wise

For fear of being ostracized

If you can dream—and keep those accidents a secret;
If you can think along the lines that you are taught

Nor ask too many questions, or try to reason why you’re privileged
If you can trust that you deserve to be the Master
And treat those cleaning skivvies with disdain
If you can bear to twist the truth to fit in with the crowd

Concealing your true feelings by
Speaking fast and just a bit too loud
Or pretend to be too busy while “Relatives do fuss!”
And stoop and tie your laces when the tears begin to gush

If you can make one heap of all your savings,

Buy treats and smokes for bullies

While escaping their worst ravings

Risking all for reputation

That most precious invitation

To join the movers and the shakers

Speaking brash and walking proud

So you can one day be the boss

And just not give a toss what others think

Or care whose feelings might be hurt

For now you’re hard, untouchable
And fit well in your shell

This carapace you’ve grown will serve you well

Long after growing pains are gone.

If you can force your heart to be like stone

Unmoved by pleas, excuses, son, you’ve shown

The qualities we need in our Leaders’ party

You’ll fit, you’ll suit, your tie and neat physique, sure, they come with a price

But neither foe nor friend so nice can cut through that ice

Your malice will suffice to mould your world just as you wish

If you can be impervious to scorn, derision, even blows,

 

Play with your phone while smiling at your foes….

 

If you can fill the undiscerning press
With sixty seconds’ worth of waffle and digress,

Yours is the House, and everyone that’s in it

You’ve won their applause; enjoy that precious minute

They robbed you of your manhood, son

Those playing fields of Eton

But they taught you how to run when done

so run Cameron!

 

 

 

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