OLD soldier John Corbett, sender of my only valentine card, admits he was never any good at poetry.

He gave up on it after he had his mouth washed out with carbolic soap after reciting a verse as a four years old at school.

While a pupil at Butts CE in the early 30s his teacher asked if any of the class could recite a poem, and John wanting to show off put his hand up.

He was asked what his piece was called and the mistress announced that a proud John would recite "Once Upon a Time".

He stood at the front of the class and began:

"Once upon a time there was no lime

The builders had no mortar,

There came a little bird,

Who *laid* a little *!!!!*

So they mixed that up for mortar"

(**that's the more polite version, and the one I remember from the 50s)

John vividly recalls being dragged out by the collar by three teachers who proceeded to wash out his mouth in the toilets. He's never liked poetry since. Who can blame him?

Imagine the scenes if that punishment was metered out to a child today. There'd be hell to pay.