"Now then, children, are you ready for school?"
With our satchels, we were waiting , as a rule.
It was father's ritual to put cod liver oil in our mouths.
And did the loathing this routine arouse.
The oil was intended to keep us well.
But, oh! How I hated the taste and the smell!
On the path, I saw my brother spit it out.
He also disliked the oil, no doubt.
"I hate it too, but it is for our own good".
"If it makes me feel sick, I don't see why we should".
He made it seem so easy and tame.
I decided I would also do the same.
If he can get away with it, why can't I?
It's not as if I was telling a lie.
But what the slip between cup and lip?
If I failed, I would get a taste of the whipping stick.
So i risked being caught, and Father's wrath.
In went the oil: cheeks bulging, I spat it on the path.
A voice behind said,"So you know better than me?
Now come back inside, and we are going to see!"
Submitted by: Emily May Horan, Copyright 2006.
Story Location: Dulverton, Somerset
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