There is one teacher wonders ‘round the school
His shambolic pace a lesson in the arts
Of wasting time, of looking like a fool.
The concept, the very idea of being smart
Is lost on him – he never has the time.
His marking must be three weeks out of date.
Still, he accepts prose, verse or rhyme
If it’s good (even though it may be late).
The day we find him in a happy mood
Is written down – “Flood in good mood for once!”
We fight, we talk, we swear, we eat our food -
He doesn’t care. We might call him “Ponce”;
He takes no notice. His lessons are a riot.
We’re not complaining – of course we enjoy it!
(1988)
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