The Old Schoolhouse. Poem by Harold R Hunt Sr

The old schoolhouse.
On the hill next to the creek
Sat the old school house.
Not used today because of the old bell.
The school was built with a large old bell you can really tell.
But every day it rings so loud that it can be heard for miles around.
In the school, there are no books, tables or desk to set.
A big crack in the old floor where he fell to his death.
The old school house is just there to stay