I Was a Pre-Pubescent

I was born in '59,
We were poor but we didn't mind.
Father worked both night and day
To clothe and feed our family.
Mother worked as hard as he,
She had to look after me.
I was a pre-pubescent, and life was good.
Then in 1965,
Father was ill, and then he died.
Mother couldn't cope; she ran off with a man,
So we had to go and live with our gran.
We didn't get much, my sisters and me,
But we were happy.
I was a pre-pubescent, yes I was.
When I was a little boy school was fun,
You messed about and you didn't get done,
Or if you did it was still good fun,
Just a ruler on your knuckles or the slipper on your bum.
And I sat next to a girl called Jane,
We were in love and we felt no shame.
I was a pre-pubescent, and I was proud.
Four happy years with Jane passed by,
And then we had to say goodbye.
Jane went to live in Liverpool,
And I started at the comprehensive school.
And I saw kids with acne on their faces,
Girls with bulging chests, and boys with broken voices.
It was pubescence, and it was ugly.
Pubescence, adolescence; these were words I didn't know.
Fornication, copulation, menstruation, contraception, masturbation--no!
I was frightened but I tried to pretend
That my happiness would never end,
So I started staying out late at night,
We'd roam the streets, maybe look for a fight.
I wore Doc Martens and loved T. Rex;
Girls were funny, so was sex.
I was a pre-pubescent, but not for long.
One summer's day in '73,
I looked in the mirror and it terrified me,
For what I saw was quite out of place:
Bumps, spots[?], and acne all over my face.
I tried to speak, but when I spoke,
All that came out was a croak!
My voice had broke...n!
I was a pubescent, and it was sad.
I used to be a pre-pubescent, but now I'm not.