The Chant of the Barbie Dolls

Keats and Chapman, having abandoned short trousers and school blazers when they were mere nippers in the quondam of their nonnage for the hallowed halls of the University of Life, always regretted their early educational curtailment, and so, late in life decided to undertake getting their honour in Higher Course Leaving Certificate English, and enrolled in an adult evening educational program up be Kevin Street for the purpose of advancing their minds and cultivation, late bloomers, as it were.

Late one night, whilst burning the midnight proverbial, Keats bemoaned the quality of some of the poetry they were being forced to study. "If I have to read that 'In the time of the breaking of the nations' one more bloody time, I'm going to fling Gussy Martin and 'Soundings' right out the window", he opined, yawning. Chapman roundly abused his short sightedness thusly: "But it comes up every year in the exam - it's well worth studying - guaranteed question...." he said, pausing momentarily with a sudden dawning realisation.

Keats lay down his book by his students lamp, and gently returned his chair to all it's fours from whence he'd been gently swinging back in his yawn, all the while eyeing Chapman, whose face was slowly morphing into a deeply aggravated "Aw here" expression. "Well", said Keats, "I suppose that would make it a Hardy Perennial, wouldn't it?". When the results came out, Keats got his honour, but Chapman was non-plussed by his B.