Education deals her blows The smart get smarter The disillusioned Are left for dead   In the seventies Guidance led us You could not believe That you could be an author   Go get a job on the factory floor Stack some boxes In a presto store Luck will take you to The Reid Gear   Maggie's weans We left the high Youth opportunities Was just like school   Paid with buttons Learning little The bullies Offered A head full of spittle   The promises of an infants life Primary one A wean heard crying As mammies Leave The smell of the classrooms Polished floors     If I had known before What I wish I knew now I'd have approached the books Made the promise Took the vow   But what was the point If scorn was felt From those poor kids Who treated brains like shite   Some of course would rise above They'd study hard and have a chance to thrive Some of us Thou...