Playtime For Teachers? Poem by Martin O'Neill

You got it wrong, you messed it up
How could you be so thick?
I ought to make you stand out front
And hit you with the Stick

Stop your crying and wipe your nose
You'll stay inside at Play
I won't have sloppiness in my class
You'll all do as I say

This sniv'lling wretch you see here now
Ignored what I had said
And filled the front page of his book
With rubbish from his head

Now get this through your lazy brains
You do as you are told
Or you will get your knuckles slapped
And stand out in the cold

I am here to teach you all your
Numbers and your letters
And you must learn to show respect
For elders and your betters

At five years old and four whole months
I learned my lesson well
Some teachers are a gift from God
And some belong in Hell.