Sitting on the floor, our legs had pins and needles then
Litening to a teacher read a story way back when
Attention seeking lunatics, with extra special minds
Making silly noises while the teacher read the rhymes
Keeping still was not a task that we completed well
Listening to her morbid tones and never mind the smell
Of lunch packed marmite sandwiches and little cheesy strips
And naughty words we'd like to say, locked up inside our lips
From nine till three they kept us there, when we would rather play
Not listen to these pensioners, and what they had to say
We didn't know times tables, or how to read and write
But just wanted to be released, and go home for the night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem