Dancing Days

Report Added: June 1990

DANCING DAYS - a poem by Frank Dodsworth.
Read at the Ingham Reunion April, 1990.

(Frank was at Nudgee from 1946 to 1948)

When I was young and had no sense,
My Mum and Dad in sheer defence,
Afraid that they had spawned a fool,
Enrolled me at a Boarding School.

A College 'twas, like many others,
Conducted by the Christian Brothers;
With daily Mass and Holy Communion,
And a morbid love for Rugby Union;

I'll ne'er forget that fateful day,
When snatched I was from childish play,
And, all togged up in suit and hat,
Dumped down there - and that was that!

But I was young, though all at sea;
My earnest thoughts were those of tea,
Which came at six, nor was I late;
But first out of the starting gate!

And there I got not stew or steaks;
But on my plate, two penny cakes,
Which set me back upon my heels,
for at home we had cakes after meals!

Four fast gulps and they were gone;
I could still have gone a buttered scone,
But yet I felt a mite less thinner,
As I waited for my proper dinner!

Alas! though then, to my surprise,
All stood and prayed with downcast eyes,
They thanked the Lord for his largesse,
While my stomach churned in emptiness!

Then, as one by one, they strolled away,
I found myself the last to stay;
Until the awful message hit,
As dinners go, then that was it!

For there was a theory then abroad,
Since discarded, thank the Lord,
That hunger makes the brain cells stronger,
And may even make then live much longer!

Maths I learnt, and Science often,
' Neath teachers not too proud to soften
The hardness of their students' hearts,
By teaching them the Martial Arts.

Of which arts there were three choices,
The choir first, for those with voices,
Then the boxing ring some thought entrancing,
And lastly, there was ballroom dancing!

Now I couldn't sing and just because
I like my nose the way it was,
I opted for the dancing bit,
And thus the torch of fame was lit!

Now the lady who taught these finer arts,
Had come, we heard, from foreign parts,
She claimed she was born a Monagesque,
And was training young ladies for the burlesque.

So a string of these fillies she brought with her;
And expected to dance with them we were;
REAL GIRLS too, if you know what I mean;
But such scenes of confusion have never been seen.

Half the class resigned straightway;
And were seen at choir practice the very next day;
While the rest sat there as glued to our chair;
While Madam and girls looked on in despair!

Defeated thus far by her motley male crew;
Our teacher announced her plan number two.
Her rage and contempt managing to smother,
She announced we would dance with each other!

Now I was of an age when I just grew and grew;
At this stage of proceedings, I'd hit 6 foot 2!
But, as I copped a partner 6 foot 4,
I was the girl as we danced the floor.

As we went through the steps, the glides and the twirls,
Dancing proved nicer without those dashed girls!
The two of us practised any time we had spare,
And ended that year as the champion pair!

It's a very warm feeling, though I'm not one to boast;
To know that at something you're better than most.
As, with studies completed, once more I was hurled,
From the warmth of my schooldays to a heartless coldworld.

Now I strove mighty hard my career to advance,
But, on Saturday night, it was always the dance.
The old Cloudiand Ballroom of pre-bulldozer days,
Was a regular witness to my weekly forays.

But there was a problem, a technical hitch;
A little confusion as to which one was which.
For I knew but the girl's steps, and not how to lead,
So the lassies I danced with were puzzled indeed!

With both of us dancing in opposite directions,
There were collisions and words in rising inflections;
So I'd explain to my partner about my sore feet;
Outside in the dark on the balcony seat.

It's funny, you know, but that school I attended,
Did more for my ego than it ever intended.
And it's a pity my talents were rudely ignored,
Nor my name spelled in gold on the oak Honour Board!

Through its portals passed Judges and Doctors of Laws,
Professors, Generals and tycoons galore,
But never again, and never before,
Will they see ballroom dancers like me anymore!