They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
      They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
      And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
      By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
      And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
      It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
      And don’t have any kids yourself.

Readings

This Be The Verse read by Harold Pinter
This Be The Verse read by Samuel West
This Be The Verse read by Deborah Findlay
Select reading
This Be The Verse read by Harold Pinter
This Be The Verse read by Samuel West
This Be The Verse read by Deborah Findlay
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