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Poetry from within


Now ”Nitty Norah” the nit nurse

Was someone who filled us with dread

She used her sharp steely nit comb

Till furrows were ploughed in your head

No-one could ever escape her

Un-announced she came to the school

Armed with her bag full of nit combs

And other things deemed to be cruel

Lined up, we stood in the hall-way

Waiting for our turn to be ”done”

The yelps that came from the front ones

A foretaste of what was to come

Those lucky enough to be ”clear”

Could then breathe a sigh of relief

But others would turn up the next day

With hair like a Red Indian chief

New styles were made in an evening

When the notes from Norah were read

Mums would cut and then shave you

Till no nits were left on your head

Your friends would then take the mickey

You knew who should take all the blame

Oh how you cursed that sad morning

When”Nitty Norah” the nit nurse came

Don Holmes

FootNote: Inspired by my sister-in-law, whose Aunty Norah was a nit nurse