When I was just a lad in short trousers
They made us recite the Lord's Prayer each day
I learned that God's first name was Harold
"Our Father, which art in heaven, Harold be thy name," we'd say
I wondered why the Almighty's kingdom would come
And why we'd want His will "done" on earth
But I daren't ask the teacher such questions
For fear she'd think me damaged at birth

Little did I know, as I stood there perplexed
That the next decade would be even more vexed
A complete waste of time, as I'd later learn
With knowledge as useful as ashes in an urn

I learned that the square on the hippopotamus
Is equal to the sum of squares on its sides
I memorized osmosis, photosynthesis
And how Henry the Eighth disposed of his brides

But they never taught me how to change a nappy
Or calm a colicky babe at two AM
They didn't mention how to please the taxman
Or mend a broken heart when love's on the wane

I can recite the periodic table
And name every bone in the human leg
But when it comes to cooking Sunday roast
I'm as useful as a one-armed man changing a lightbulb

They never taught me how to fix a leaking tap
Or how to cook more than just beans on toast
I wasn't shown the way to change a flat tyre
Or how to tactfully refuse to be a wedding guest

I know the date of the Battle of Hastings
And can solve for X in my sleep
But negotiating a pay rise with the boss?
I'd rather wrangle a flock of angry sheep

No lesson plan on how to read a room
Or tell if she's just not that into you
They skipped the class on handling rejection
And how to know if no means yes or yes means no, too

They drilled me on dangling participles
And how to find the cosine of pi
But dealing with a sulking teenager?
I'd sooner teach a cat to fly

The curriculum lacked "How to Budget 101"
And "Dealing with In-laws" wasn't on the list
They forgot to teach me small talk at parties
Or how to say her bottom doesn't look so big 

No, they never taught me how to get a divorce
Or cope when the kids have flown the nest
The school of life's been my real teacher
And I'm still failing most of its tests

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.