So Barry got elected president.
The whole school voted. I was left in dust.
My speeches were incisive, pertinent,
But who can counter fourthform female lust?
He looked like Robert Redford at sixteen,
With easy sexy charm that drove me mad,
And campaign smiles that promised the obscene,
He had no arguments. They're all I had.
And here's the thing that's strangest, I suppose,
I somehow put my cross beside his name!
A kind of sporting gesture? Well, who knows?
So long has passed, and yet we're still the same.
Now Barry charms in car sales; he's no drudge.
And me, I'm Britain's youngest female judge.