Memories of Milton - Old boys reunion
submitted by Ron Crittal
And so to memories of school, some not so pleasant then, but time seems to have transformed them all to nostalgia. By the way the nickname "Dusty" was jokingly conferred upon me by a cricket coach when I was in my last year of Baines School before going to Milton. It is, of course, a traditional nickname for millers of flour. The nickname stuck once I got to Milton.
Some of you may recall that my first two years at Milton were as a boarder in Charter House. Jock Avery, art teacher, was the housemaster. Break-time sandwiches for boarders had little attraction so I used to scrounge better fare from the rest of you. Dennis, Ken and Bob may remember. As boarders our possessions were common property and always seemed to be missing. Our lives were controlled by bugle calls and prefects. It was difficult to avoid corporal punishment. No boarder ever chose doing lines as punishment! We learned to share and suffer in silence and developed our own peculiar code of ethics.
Whilst I did not enjoy boarding school at the time, with hindsight I realise that I benefited a great deal by being toughened up as a boarder. I still experience a degree of nostalgia when I hear last post. It was sounded every evening at 6pm followed by the dinner call 10 minutes later.
When my parents returned to Bulawayo I rode to school, usually in the company of John Pugh, passing the Eveline School boarders' crocodiles on the way. In later years it earned us invitations to their dances.
Cadets was not my way of spending a Saturday morning. Staff Sergeant Major Erasmus, when drilling our platoon, once asked me why there were no flies about and then told me it was because my mouth was open. I went to two cadet camps at Inkomo Barracks. Only those who worked in the kitchen during the camps will know whether there was any truth in the rumour that our water was laced with ‘blue stone’.
Filling Balk Jones' coat pockets with fruit peel during history lessons was more entertaining. So was spreading bird seed on the floor of room 15 for Budgie Boulter. There were some risks involved in the attachment of an extension cord to go down the trapdoor of room 15 to illuminate the area below the suspended floor. Someone from the class must have become an electrician. Ian Pearson perhaps?
The tuck shop was part of the bicycle shed, armoury and room 15 complex. In those days you could buy square roots, fishes and gob stoppers for a penny each. Some boarders (not me) were told that the trapdoor in room 15 gave access to the tuck shop. Somehow they managed a successful raid on its contents. However, their apprehension and punishment was swift. Apparently they had no place to hide the stolen wares.
I don't remember learning much science from Archell. He often arrived late. On one such occasion he had the audacity to beat the whole class with a Bunsen burner tube for making a noise during his absence. He took pity on Tiki Sandford when he saw the size of his bum.
Some of us used to gather at the Palace Cinema on Friday afternoons. On one such visit Jim Neill kept flicking the hair of the girl sitting in front of him. He told her his name was Dusty Millar. She was Barry Lewis' girlfriend. No need to guess who copped it from Barry Lewis in the prefects' common room on Monday.
Form 4, Cambridge, the end of the raft of compulsory general education subjects, Baulk Jones’ dry sarcasm, and an increasing differentiation among our peer group, doesn’t seem 50 years ago. The Director of ‘The Ghost Train’ sent me to Scratchy Batchelor in the hope that I could acquire a West Country accent, and Quirk tutored Peter Sensky and me prior to the Mikado, achieving spectacular success with Peter. Some years later, when as a student at Rhodes I was hitch-hiking back to Bulawayo, I was delighted when a battered Beetle stopped with Quirk behind the wheel, giving us a few hours of reminiscing and sharing staff and student confidences.
Piet Mans’ weekly debrief of Milton’s rugby performance helped me get through Cambridge Afrikaans. One time before we were to play Plumtree he had us rehearsing the war-cry:
Cycling to school – we all did in those days – involved going through the bush, over Hillside Road through more bush, where Hillcrest was eventually to spread below Mater Dei, and along Winnie’s Way. It was just a dirt track then, but there we were going to Milton and all the girls cycling to Townsend. Winter mornings it was literally freezing in the river beds.
School was never my favourite thing or time, but that was probably my fault. With hindsight which is usually 20/20, it could have been so much worse. You read a lot these days about bullying problems. I was the youngest in the class, the skinniest and one of the smallest (until my growth hormones kicked in), yet I can’t recall being bullied by anyone in our class. Rather I can remember being shepherded on occasion by various guardian angels – so I have to say a big thank you to all you older (!!) boys.
I don’t have any real memories from 1954, but I do remember Form 2 and Room 15, especially beneath the floor. Others are better qualified to write about that escapade. John Sandford has some good stories. And if we can ever find Ian Pearson we can get the full story of tapping the mains for light down there. That was the year I scored the nickname of Scone. I think there had been a general thing of calling everyone Skol or some such, and Scone Ron had a nice ring to it. Also Scone round the bend, and what’s scone (w)ron(g) with Scone Ron?
I also remember Form 3, where our form room was in that block behind the gym, and Fly was the break activity of choice.
When was the big polio scare, when assembly, cadet camp and various sports activities were all cancelled?
Silly things: Squirting each other with Flame tree flower pods, competing to see who could swing along the row of Jacaranda trees without touching the ground (while bunking), sitting under the floor of the bicycle sheds classroom lit by the electrical talents of John Pearson, eating Flaky bars and gob-stoppers. Skid Kids in the bush and dust with our stripped-down bikes. All good dirty fun!
Serious things: Getting dorked for some of the above; the great game of 'Fly'- why did it not become a recognised part of athletics - the Triple jump did!
Seeing Chesworth being carted off to hospital with a broken pelvis during a rugby game against (I think) Bishops; getting drilled yet again by Plumtree at cricket (the Pitheys).
I don't know if it ever struck you who were in my class at Milton, but I detested school. Thinking back on those times, I think that I was a late developer (still developing even now!) and didn't take advantage of all that life offered me. I'll really show my age now and say "Yes, if I could have my school years again, I'd do things quite differently. I might work harder (that wouldn't be difficult) and I would certainly play much harder." But I had my moments:-
* Wearing the hidden gear (imported from a practical joke shop in Preston, England) which gave me an erectile school tie whenever Queenie Freeman entered the classroom. (No, I didn't wear it in Hambley's class, needless to say!). From the same source: itching powder liberally sprinkled during Jackie Niven's Geography lessons - and stink bombs gleefully smashed during "Uncle Lionel's" science demonstrations.
* Arriving at school in a disastrous state after trying to cycle along Winnie's Way and ford the little river, then more like a torrent. I remember finding that it was easier to pull the wretched bike sideways through the mud. I think all they could see of me when I eventually arrived at school were the whites of my eyes.
* Being shown the ropes of becoming a young man about town by JG when we went to "The Vic" and with much excitement ordering a pink gin! (That was seen as being exceptionally daring in those days.)
* Smoking the cigar our barber gave all his clients (old and young) at Christmas time. (I'd had a haircut two weeks before, but the temptation of a free cigar for the price of another 1/6 or so was too much temptation.) I think the barber cut three hairs for his full fee from me that day! And how that cigar smoke oozed under my bedroom door to be detected by the finely tuned nostrils of my baby sister - who immediately told "the authorities" - who promptly grounded me.
* The tete-a-tetes with all those wonderful angels in green where the cycle track to Milton intersected with that leading to Townsend School – and inevitably being late for school as a result. .....Ah school days!
Casting my mind back to you, my classmates, I regret not having made far more time for you. I can think of so many of you who would have made excellent life-long friends - had we remained in fairly close proximity. However, it's not too late to start some correspondence even now, is it?
I can remember sitting in the classroom at the corner of the main building, listening to a dialogue between dry, sarcastic Jacko Niven and Peter Sensky.
J: "Sensky what have you got under your desk?"
S: "A book Sir."
J: "What book Sensky?"
S: "A History book, Sir."
J: "What History book, Sensky?"
S: "The Diaries of Madame de Pompadour, Sir."
J: "Why are you reading a book like that now, Sensky?"
S: "To broaden my mind, Sir."
J: "What! Sensky, your mind is already as broad as a sewer."
Well, I thought it was funny.
When we were in the isolated classroom next to the bikesheds, I can remember, that, as we Afriks students departed for Mnr Mans' classroom, some of the French 'scholars' used to go under the floorboards. So that they could squint through a knothole up the skirts of the French teacher (Madame Sonnabend?). Can you remember Bok Jones' awful perennial pun from the American War of Independence? “ Well Class, do you think the Franco/American general said "Keep off de Grasse!"? However, although we probably all thought that Bok Jones was a bit of a 'date' I get the impression that we guys know twice as much about history than most people that I have come across. We must work out which of us got the greatest number of whacks from Archer's half metre of bunsen tubing. Apart from the cadets, I enjoyed Milton. I can remember cycling to school past the site of the Macdonald Club. I seem to remember playing snooker there with Peter Sensky and Sam Brenner in 6th form. Scone passed Townsend Girls cycling to school. I passed Convent Girls on my route. That made mornings a bit nicer. Something that I will always remember is cycling home in the midday sun after school. On one occasion it was 108 degrees. And then back again for sports practice after a bit of homework. We must have been incredibly fit.
On another occasion I can remember cycling home along the Selborne Avenue Route. No other traffic on the road. Downhill. I put the pedal to the metal, man. Halfway down the hill and I'm almost supersonic. Well tonning it then. Now a lady burger(burgeress?) of Suburbs comes from a side road in her car. She reckons she can get down the hill before me. She turns down into Selborne but unfortunately misses second gear. Robert sees his extremely white face reflected in her chrome bumper. He jams on his only brake, the front brake. The front wheel locked, the back wheel took a circular trajectory in the vertical plane. Robert executed a 4 and a half sommersault that would easily have got him 9.98 in the recent Olympics (diving or gymnastics, take your choice). The dismount was not so classy. The skin from Robert's palms and kneecaps is probably still imbedded along several metres of that tarred road. Unfortunately, Hambly never accepted 'No skin on my hands, Sir' as an excuse for not doing Latin homework.
Remembering this reminds me of the time in 1954 during a PT class when Peter Sensky ascended to the top of one of the climbing ropes to the gym. At the top he released his grip ever so slightly and descended under about 50% control. I guess Hambly was no more sympathetic about his "No skin on my hands, Sir".
Who else remembers "square-roots" from the tuck shop?
I also remember in 1953 when we were in the classroom next to the gym. In additional to playing fly in break I think we also used to chin the bar on some stainless steel pipe construction outside the classroom.
Some memories of Milton and Rhodesia have resurfaced since you first made contact. Ron, your descriptions of life in Byo in the 1940s and 50s are sheer nostalgia. Form 2 and life under the floor in Room 15 was like something from the movie, Animal House. Jim Neil was always the class clown and a major instigator of trouble. I recollect an afternoon when he baited Isaac Abramov to distraction and was challenged to a fight. It took place behind a building - I think it was called the Secondary School - and was over in a minute with blood oozing from Isaac's nose (or was it lip). Just shows that you can't believe the old adage that brain beats brawn - Isaac had both, and still lost.
Isaac and Gus Rabinowitz were much larger than most of us until Form 4 and they played lock in (I think) the under 15's rugby side. Many years later Gus sadly committed suicide in an hotel in Gatooma or Que Que.
Reminiscences of the time –
Crusaders – a Christian fellowship whose membership seemed almost entirely from Milton.
Balk Jones – fiddling with his spectacle case and stroking his moustache while sprawled across his desk – especially on one occasion ... we had been taking dictation in the previous period, and Jones wanted to know what we had written. Someone read him the last phrase ... moustache stroked, long pause, then he spoke: “Comma.”
Queenie Freeman – “right, boys, right, settle down ...”
Jack Niven – energetic. Many years I met him again – then he was retired Professor J. McG. Niven. Same style of teaching – nothing had changed.
Putt Jackson – this was probably after 1954. His bible was Fitzgerald’s book on Africa. I think he may have assisted in its compilation. One day Putt walked into the Geography room and announced – “Fitzgerald’s DEAD!” Instead of commiseration, everyone burst out laughing, and Putt stormed out in a rage.
Archell – speaking to Dennis Ladbrooke, who sported a big red “Jesus Saves” button on his blazer: “What does it mean – Jesus saves?” Ladbrooke: “Well, He does, doesn’t He?”
I did not like Milton. I thought it was a depressing place, where you sank or swam alone, and prowess at rugby was all-important.
Getting back to Bulawayo----I am sure all of our form remembers my brother Roy as head boy of the school-----would have been, I think, in our 1st year, 1951. I have a vivid memory of our whole class being summoned to the prefects’ common room during “break” because of a rort (?) in the classroom when a particular teacher had failed to pitch up for a lesson. I seem to remember that we were throwing paper darts with broken nibs at each other---has anyone seen a nib in the last 20 years?----and we were caught in the act. We all got summarily judged in front of the 12 or so prefects and were meted out instant justice by way of dorkes (?)( pronounce phonetically), in the common room. I always felt that because brother Roy had to demonstrate impartiality, I got beaten the hardest, but no doubt everyone felt the same! We were ushered into that most hallowed room one at a time but the memory is one of listening to the loud “thwack” as the cane descended on the guy who had just gone in, and your turn was next!. Ah well-----it made men of us, I guess.
The tuck shop was a place of interest during break-----and if one was lucky enough to have a penny to spend this would buy you a nigger ball or a garish yellow and pink soft spongy thing called a “square root”.
I wonder if anyone remembers those Saturday mornings at Cadets and the annual train journey to Inkomo, long since discontinued.
Memories include dancing lessons held at Townsend High School where the senior Girls partnered Milton senior boys, learning the foxtrot, quick step, waltz, tango, samba, rumba and LONDON JIVE!(Rock and Roll was on its way by then).
These lessons assisted my social development and enabled enjoyment of the School Dances held in the Beit and other school halls and many other dances, “rock sessions” and formal balls in later life.
Cadet Camp at Inkomo Barracks near Salisbury in the August school holidays added some pain (route marches), interest (how to find your way home) and excitement particularly when Milton won the “Best Drill Platoon” and John Pugh the “Sword of Honour” competitions.
At the same camp I remember Roy Flowerday (ex form 4R) attempting to arrest Colonel Linden? who was the GOC of all school cadets in Rhodesia. On this day, cadets were split into small groups of a half a dozen or so and told to disperse themselves in the countryside and to search for and capture “Bloody Harry” – a Russian Spy who was attempting to pass through the area en route to Salisbury. At the same time Colonel Linden was inspecting the manoeuvres in his smart black Wolseley? motor vehicle, which was adorned with pennants to indicate that a VIP was ensconced within. Roy Flowerday set up a road block and brought the colonel’s vehicle to a halt challenging the occupant with “are you Bloody Harry? – switch off your engine!” The good colonel later told his version which claimed that Roy had said “What’s the bloody hurry? – switch off your engine.” Roy was awarded the “Bayonet of Cheek”!
Apart from English, under Freeman, who took the role call and Latin under Hambly, whom we all feared, one did not have to worry overmuch about attending other lessons. I remember switching from Afrikaans to French at one stage as the French mistress had most pleasing “boobs”. I was always in trouble with my mother for coming home with ink stains on my trousers as it was the “in thing” for someone to pour the contents of the inkwell on to your seat just before you sat on it.
1954 Milton school Bulawayo. Class 4th (Latin, loafers, louts)
Latin the foreign language for the elite – that’s us, isn’t it? Loafers (that’s me). Louts (that’s what Queenie Freeman called our late-mate John Eldridge!)
Back to room 6 (7) near Pop Dowling’s office and many renderings of “Nymphs and shepherds”, readings of Macbeth. As a choir we would have made a fine collections of “Zambezi-boys”!
S.W. Jones (Frenchie), what a character and “Mr Putt’ Jackson who always had an eye open for Derek Mitchell-Henry and John Eldridge. “Baulk Jones” (what do you reckon your books says about that?) and then Mitchell told him what his book said!
My all-time favourite - guf guf Gifford complete with pins and “half-jack” in his old Citroen?
Apologies here for errors in times and events, but the re-construction from the history of 1951 cannot be without a few slip-ups here and there. This is written from Form 1 to Form IV as I re-call the events of the past.
Our Family had moved to Bulawayo from Simonstown at the end of the year 1950, joining the big rush to Southern and Northern Rhodesia where big opportunities were opening up for all.
After being enrolled at Milton Senior, January 1951, we were sorted into classes. I was to be in Form IL right opposite the Staff Room and next to the Ablutions. From day one, Algebra was a difficult subject for me, especially something called “Simultaneous Equations”. I was enrolled as a Day Boarder, which meant lunch with the full time Boarders from Pioneer and Charter House, in the school dining room. Then, after a lunch break, homework in the afternoon done back in IL classroom.
We drift reluctantly into class for our homework session, and there is a shout and commotion from outside the classroom windows.
Great excitement; It’s a new game they play in South Africa called ‘Bok-Bok’. Fortunately no permanent damage that I ever heard of, but very sore backs were common place.
As the novelty of Bok-Bok wore off , a new game started, near the end of Form 1, called “Ramping”. A builders wooden plank was taken and one brick placed under the end. The would be “Ramp Hero” would charge at the ramp full speed on his bicycle, and survive the free flight on his bike from the end of the ramp.
Ramping ends pretty abruptly near the end of Form IL. How do you get home on your smashed up bike, and how do you account for what happened?
Regarding the classes, there was as I remember, a Music Lesson once per week, and Bible Scripture, also one lesson per week.
The Music Lesson was in the Main Assembly Hall. Our Music Teacher brought out his 78 speed wind-up record player, and our lusty out of tune voices sang “Camptown Races” and “There’s a Tavern in the Town”. I still have a 78 recording of “There’s a Tavern in the Town”. I lost all interest in music, with the introduction to Classical music, Chopin, Haydn, Mozart, Brahms, and all that stuff. Glynn Nixon told me to update with today’s top music in 1951. Les Paul and Mary Ford, with I think ‘Ivory Rag’, and others by these Artists.
Since there is no examination in Music or Religious Instruction at the end of the year, then logically, there is no reason to attend any more of these classes. The best escape was to wonder around the trees on the Sports Field, with others who had the same feelings as myself. Prefects became aware of this Bunking of Classes and these escapes terminated at the end of
We are still Junior Juniors at the end of Form I, being hassled by the Prefects if you lost your Grey Felt Hat, or had it stolen. Never mind , - just go to the Lost Property Room, of Students belongings managed by Latin Teacher Hambly.
“I’ve lost my Hat, Sir.” “Is this one yours?” Out comes a dirty scruffy hat. “Yes, that’s mine”.! Any hat will do, new or old, clean or dirty, whether it fits your head size or not!
True Freedom at last. Room 15 at the Bicycle Sheds. What could be better?
You could choose Afrikaans or French as a second language study.
With the acute housing shortage in Bulawayo at that time, our family moved from 19th Avenue Famona, losing contact somewhat with very good friends, Glynn Nixon and Ron Crittall. We moved to Longford Drive, Queens Park East, and now made close friends with Ian Pearson, living a few blocks away. Ian had finished his Primary School, (as I remember), in Port Elizabeth, and with myself coming from Simonstown, we decided that it was not necessary for us to attend the Afrikaans classes. It was just too easy.
It was therefore necessary to find a new hide out, since Prefects were patrolling the whole school grounds, looking for bunking students. What better than down the trap door, near the door of Room 15, dark and a bit dirty, but plenty of space. One afternoon we brought discarded telephone cable from the yard of a house in Queens Park East, and wired the floor from the on/off plug above the trap door right through to under the Tuck Shop with a mains on/off switch in the event of unexpected visitors.
Ian and I searched in vain with portable light in hand, to find a trap door into the Tuck Shop, but no luck!
Our greatest moment was when the new French lady Teacher started the class singing a lively French song. We banged violently under the floor with bricks and wood blocks in time with the music and the singing. At the end of the song the banging continued and she ran out the classroom stricken with fear; Was there ghosts in Room 15?
It is with considerable regret we had to say goodbye to Room 15, and move to a bright relatively new classroom in the block behind the Gym.
Our Family had moved from Queens Park East to our new home in Drayton Avenue, Woodville. Algebra is still a problem for me, and I have to ride by bike from Woodville to a University Student in Famona, for extra lessons on Saturday mornings.
Those with Sports abilities were showing their mettle in Heany, Fairbridge, Birchenough and Borrow houses. Basketball, - If you were a taller fellow like Dennis Ladbrook you could just drop the ball through the ring. A shortie like me, - You couldn’t get the ball off the ground!
The new swimming pool had just been completed, we all enjoyed this. Even the one or two in our class who could not swim. Swimming and Gymnastics were the best sports for me. Scrimmage in the Gym under Gym Master Watt was very good. Why can’t there be more Gymnastics and swimming? That is right up my street.
Most of us competed enthusiastically at break times in “Fly” – Hop, step and jumping forward to make your footmark next to the one bending down and swinging your leg over.
Fascinating History lessons from Niven on the American Civil War and War of Independence, and Science lessons from Leander Riding School owner, Archell. Never-ending stories of pregnant and sick horses and all events related to his horses and their Competitions. Made myself a bit unpopular in his class, sitting at the back and shorting out the lead cell accumulator batteries with lead pencils. Is there a fire at the back of the class, with the smoke from the burning pencils?.
At the end of the Form III year, we add up the marks each of us has scored in the final examination papers. It was my best academic achievement ever, - came 5th in class. Not there yet with Algebra, scored 1 mark out of 50,.
No more fun and games. Our classroom moves back to the quadrangle in the old block just around the corner from where we started in IL. Putt Jackson is our Geography teacher. He literally puts the fear of the Devil in to you, if you lose attention for just a bit.
Mans is our very good Afrikaans teacher. Our final year Cambridge set book is “Somer”, an Afrikaans classic by “Langenhoven”. I sail through this like a breeze, a real “piece of cake”.
At last I click with Algebra, - no problem at all, - but what a time it took me to get there!
Latin from Hambly is heavy going. Translating from Latin to English is great, just to hear the stories - Of how Caesar’s Legions fought against the Numibians in North Africa. Translating from English to Latin can take me literally days, to try and get the declensions right.
“Populus Romanus ab omnibus Barbaris terrebat”. “The Roman People were terrified by all the Barbarians”. I still cannot decide if the correct declension is terrebat or terrebant.
There is no more time available for this. Glynn Nixon sitting behind me has completed his translations - I borrow his book and start cribbing it out just as Hambly enters the class. I carry on cribbing the notes, totally unaware. There is a violent twist of my ear, as I am dragged to my feet under Hambly’s very firm hold on my ear
How I wish I could just sail through the translations like Prefect Dennis Stephens and Peter Rothbart. Would I ever just pass this subject?
For the rest of the year it’s “Noses to the Grind Stone”, for all of us.
Cambridge final exams at year end after all the studying and sweating it out. The results are out. I have passed Cambridge exam with a distinction in Afrikaans and a credit in all other subjects, even passed Latin. Thank goodness it is all over.
Headmaster Downing retires end of this year, 1954, and the new Head will be Messiter-Tooze. My school days are over.
Over, but with increasing deep regret as the years go by. What a wonderful 4 years it was. A truly great Rhodesian School, Milton Senior, with best class mates you could ever wish for. The best totally dedicated Teachers in all subjects.
Start again in IL, - You bet, - Right now, - Wouldn’t miss it for anything in the World.
My memories of Milton - only good memories and just remember happy schooling and great sport and many friends. We were very lucky to be taught and appreciate wonderful discipline - from great teachers like Hambly and Archer and also the Cadets - we had to be well mannered and well dressed (Boaters!) in public or else. Fortunate to have the occasional swim (with Jim Neill) during Freeman's English class.
My favourite activities were tennis and squash. I was very proud to play on the school rugby team up until Form 4, when I stopped playing rugby. I was also on the school field hockey team and I still have a photograph of the team.
I enjoyed the friendship and camaraderie of school. I remember with great pleasure some of the shenanigans the kids used to get up to such as smoking under the floorboards of the building near the bicycle shed. I also remember our beautiful French teacher, (Mrs. Sonnabend) and I remember my friends gluing mirrors on the tops of their shoes in the hopes of seeing up her dress. Of course, it never worked! All in all, good memories of most years, except my 6th year. I stayed on to do A levels. There were only a few of us and since we had little in the way of structure, it was a bit of a lonely year compared to the previous years.
MILTON STAFF 1954
Jerry 'Pop’ Downing Headmaster
FG 'Putt’Jackson Deputy Head “Fairall, Crittall and Stephen!”Geography
Lionel ‘Snake’ Archell Form Master Horses, Leander Riding, General Science Bunsen burner tubing
NS ‘Queenie’Freeman English “Right chaps, right, right! Settle down.”
Jack Niven Geography & History
L ‘Baulk’ Jones History“Keep off de Grasse.”
Sid ‘Frenchy’ Jones French
FW ‘Scratchy’ Batchelor Maths, Cricket
Piet Mans Afrikaans A cane called ‘Maureen’- she, Rugby bites hard.
WDG 'Wattsie’ Watt PE
Fred Hambly Latin
Silane silane wema kia
Tina si puma Militon.
THE WAR CRY
Enok, Enok, Enok, ayyyyyy,
Enok, Enok, Enok, ayyyyyy,