Metric Feet Poem by Martin O'Neill

I shouldn't be so touchy
He's only seventeen
And when you look behind his ears
It really is bright green

Feet and inches, metres, mills
They're all just terms for length
But metric's all they teach 'em now
Lord, please give me strength.

I showed him what a foot was
I then explained a yard
One seven six oh in a mile,
Surely that's not hard? .

The measure of a pole is
Five and one half yards
Four make up a chain length
He's putting up his guard.

Ten chains make a furlong
(The sort on race-day cards)
Eight furlongs make a mile up;
His eyes have just gone starred!

I didn't even mention
A fathom of six yards
His brain cell overloaded
His mind just turned to lard.

I cannot get the message
Beyond his vapid guard
Oh, stuff this guff, I've had enough,
I'm off to be a Bard.