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A Library Poem

I thought a bit of poetry Was different from the norm And so I hope that you will see That prose is getting worn.

I thought a bit of poetry
Was different from the norm
And so I hope that you will see
That prose is getting worn.

The libraries at Holloway
Are in a dismal state
The problems we can’t underplay
No, we cannot negate.

The fact that Founders library
Has a piteous collection
And if we want a cup of tea
We’re faced with bleak rejection.

Computers in the upstairs room
Are few; and if they work
It’s very easy to assume
You’ll sit next to some jerk
That plays his music far too loud
Or whispers on the phone
And so you sit there furrow-browed
In the ‘quiet’ zone.

The journals are a huge disgrace
Why can’t we take them out?
We’re adults now, we won’t deface –
but we cannot go without.

Loan repayments, what a joke!
Eighty pence an hour!
We’re students, so we can’t invoke
That monetary power.
Give us a break, buy a machine
For coffee, hot chocolate, tea
We don’t do well without caffeine
And we cannot guarantee
We will not spill it on the books,
The desks, PCs or floor,
We couldn’t bear your angry looks
We’ll try to win rapport.

Compared with Bedford’s modern build
We’ve really got it hard
No sofas, drinks – we’re unfulfilled
Give us the same regard.
Some talking space, some swimming fish…?
A printer credit box
We’re not asking for something swish
Just chairs arranged in blocks.

Now really, do you think it fair
That if we want a break,
We have to walk across the square
Our papers left at stake?

Lengthen library opening times
We like to work at night
And maybe then we won’t get fines
In the morning light.

A sentry posted at the door
Is all that it would take
Who cares if our eyes get sore?
How can you dictate?

So listen up, we’ve had enough
Of being badly treated.
This time we’re getting tough
We will not be defeated.

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