The Ballad of Bert and Gert Come on, quieten down thanks, you young folk of Lancs. Sit a while with your old Uncle Tone. I’m old and I’m wise (with a liking for pies!). ....And switch off that damn mobile phone. My story to you is both honest and true, And I’m sure that it won’t be a bore! It’s the story of Bert and his twin sister Gert, Two kids who lived close to Turf Moor.
Now Bert thought himself cool, he’d just finished school With a GCSE in being silly. A face full of spots, just like join-the-dots. And his brains were somewhere in his willy! But Gert wasn’t like that She was wise, she was smart She’s ambition to be an explorer. And she wanted romance, she ached for the chance, But the town lads they chose to ignore her.
Let’s start with the lad and his pals Wilf and Ned Three young men who fancied their chances. With their looks and their wit and their ���������������� Burnley��������� home kit How could girls resist their advances? Testosterone run, these three studied The Sun, Watched Baywatch and “those” channels on cable. Each Jack the Lad told of women he’d had While their hands worked hard under the table. The one goal Bert made was to get himself laid He’d rehearsed it enough in his mind. After trying to shave, being ever so brave, He set off to see what he could find.
The other two clowns followed Ned into town And they watched him thrown out of the Otter But their laughter died down as Bert hit the ground At the feet of their ex-headmaster’s daughter.
“Are you reet, lad?” She said as Bert rubbed his bruised head And he twisted round in her direction When his eyes met her brace, which lit up her whole face, He struggled to hide his erection.
“I didn’t really fall over” said the young casanova As his Y-fronts felt tighter and tighter. His head was a whirl as he ogled the girl And wondered where he could invite her.
He did push his luck, “Do you fancy a f... f.... walk? I’m sure it’d help me recover”. He just needed this chance to get into her pants After all, he was THE great Burnley lover. He got to one knee, hoping she wouldn’t see How his willy cried out for attention. If her father was here, he knew that, no fear, He’d get twenty five years of detention. “Aye, but I’ll have to be nippy, I was off to the chippy, My dad wants his fish and chip supper”. Was it haddock or cod? He didn’t care as, by God, His one thought was how to get up her.
Wilf and Ned liked Bert’s style, and just stood for a while Imagining what would be on show soon. The kissing, caressing, smooching and undressing And all to the old Baywatch tune.
With his arm round her waist, Bert could not hide his haste To show her a romantic back alley, He was so sure that tonight, he’d “get it on” right, That he’d march her to that Ribble Valley.
But the girl, Trace’, had him sussed and she wasn’t fussed That he’d brought his two friends for the thrill, Still she’d string him along, then show him how wrong He was as she went for the kill
The doorway of Woolworth’s would do for a while, As he leant in, tongue first, toward Trace’. “You come near me with that, you small-willied prat, And you’ll go home without any face!!” “I’ll kick THAT little fellow, till it’s blue, green and yellow And a virgin forever you will be. So now stop all this bull - coz when your balls are full, Your brain doesn’t have to be empty!!” Bert, Wilf and Ned, with their tails ‘tween their legs Went home and they started reflecting Bert became a man first, when from his mouth burst “it’s not sex lasses want most, it’s respecting”!!!!
Gert’s got a tale too, and I’ll tell it to you, ‘Cos you were good while you learned of Bert’s lesson. Gert learned the hard way, of the price that’s to pay For forgetting - even just for one session.
It was one evening in June, when there was a full moon And people act just a little crazy, She’d just washed the pots, for a change there weren’t lots, Though my memory could be a bit hazy.
Gert was clever and witty, and ever so pretty Blonde haired and Hollyoaks slim; She read Judy Blume, imagining soon She’d be wooed by the baker’s lad, Jim.
Jim was tall and was strong, and his hair was quite long And unruly, which got her heart beating. He’d tattoos, ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’, and she couldn’t wait For a chance to see more, albeit fleeting.
The problem for Gert, and how her heart hurt, Was that he didn’t know her from Adam. He’d served her sliced bread, but all that he’d said Was “And I’ve got a nice French Stick here, madam!!” “A French stick indeed, that’s not what I need”. Thought Gert, “it’s passion, commitment and marriage. I can’t wait for the day when Jim sweeps me away And twelve horses pull my bridal carriage”.
Back to that night in June, under a full moon, And Gert was still doing the drying. Her mind was on him; yes, the baker lad, Jim And her longing, it near had her crying. Then a tap at the door, tea towel dropped to the floor As Gert went to see who was knocking. It was Jim with a titter, and the smell of best bitter, Saying “Gert, I’m here to get you life rocking!!” Her heart skipped a beat, the blood rushed to her feet, Light headed, she put on her coat and gloves. The night sky was dark, as they drove to the park But all she could see were white doves.
He grabbed hold of her hand as they neared the bandstand, Her legs, they were turning to jelly. She didn’t quite know how to go with the flow Of the feelings in the pit of her belly. He loved her, she knew, and his love was so true They’d be married and have a houseful of nippers. These thoughts filled her brain, as in a light rain He pushed her back towards the stink of old kippers.
She knew in her mind, this was not the right time They’d just met and she was a virgin. But her heart said “It’s right, and there’s no need to fight It’s your first time, womanhood’s emerging.”
“Have you got some protection to put on your erection?” She asked as she lay on her back. “Your taking the piss, you stuck up little miss, It’s like having a bath in a mac!!!” “I won’t wear one of those, and I’ve not got a dose, So lie back and try not to worry. And if you catch with a sprog. I won’t be a dog And expect you to come and say “Sorry”. “I love you”, he burped as she winced with the hurt She thought he’d be gentle and caring. But the birds didn’t sing, she knew there’d be no ring But a label that she would be wearing.
Jim wiped himself down, turned to her with a frown “Reet, lass, let’s get thee back ‘ome. I’m off to the pub for a pint and some grub. Sometimes soon ah’ll give thee a phone.” But Gert she just knew Jim was not being true He’d got what he’d wanted and more. As he drove her back home, she shuddered, alone, Feeling frightened, abandoned and sore. There’s still forests and streams in her exploring dreams As she hangs out with other young mothers. Her life put on hold at sixteen years old While Jim shows his French stick to others.
She’s no time for regrets as she counts up her debts While Chantelle fills her nappy and cries. If only she’d took that short bus ride to Brook... She’s not ready for these lifelong ties. People whisper and stare. “Whats that
slag doing there?
She’ll be having another one soon...” The lads still stay away, “She’s spoilt goods”, they all say Because of that damp night in June. My tale’s nearly done; no it’s not been much fun But there’s things to be learned from this verse There are
Step-Ins and Brook,
details are in this book, where you can chat to a qualified nurse.
cost nowt and you don’t have to shout
Across a counter so people can hear.
There’s other help too, that’s there just for you
nowt And it’s free, confidential and near.
Bert and Gert are not real, yes, I know how you feel Though their stories have that ring of truth.
So don’t leave things to fate, cos that might be too late And I want you to enjoy your youth.
So I’ll make this the last, ‘cos it’s nearly half-past Turn on the TV, let’s watch Corrie.
A cup of tea would be nice for my words and advice
“Sex means you never have to say you’re sorry!!!”
Burnley Teenage Health Team
Pendle Teenage Health Team
SHOUT - Hyndburn
Rossendale Teenage Health Team
ÂŠ Lancashire Teenage Pregnancy Partnership 2008 Illustrations and design ÂŠ Emma Holmes 2008. firstname.lastname@example.org The rights of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted to him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This poem is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâ€™s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any other means, without the prior permission in writing of Lancashire Teenage Pregnancy Partnership, nor be otherwise circulated in any other form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent productions.