An Ode To Modern Warfare

Early this morning, as I walking down to my lesson I passed my Irish colleague returning from a Shakespearean session Perhaps still thinking about the Bard, the King and the fool As he gingerly traversed the minefield that is Simba School. Oh! Mines and missiles inundate this scholastic terrain And on one’s agility do place much physical strain For teachers must side-step discarded bags and litter Or the ballistic speed of some gossip-crazed critter. Such is the volatility and unpredictability on this battleground That careless missilery does ruthlessly abound Ready for another, untimed, dubious, un-aimed at launch That might sock our Economist upon his paunch. Of course, primitive methods, such as those David used Might upon our historian or accountant be abused As a bag-load of books might catapult through the air And catch you on the forehead, full and square. It’s a battleground, this, the halls of Simba School Where “badly-uniformed” guerillas vociferously rule!