A School Glorified

Six years on foot Through far and hurdling paths like wilderness My secondary learning root Which taught me to taste and endure bitterness Oh my brain of rational thoughts: In the mornings it felt cold but fresh And in the noons hot but full of competence Yet I in wisdom remained afresh. My shirt white was not as it was The trousers blue-black could hardly its colour survive Of them were made other fashions And the prescribed white shoes to serve— Pedestrianizing both on rocky roads and tars, Loosing its first fine form gradually— I should always to say thanks and sorry. We Trinitarians were a mere picture of the colonial missionaries. In school we lunched our books As we were often empty-in-pocket: We would go hungry and return angry Battled we with school's ups and downs Nothing to better to eat But either drank groceries, Or fill our stomachs with water from the bloody tap Those days were best but not happiest to us. The school Holy Trinity would never be the weak's For only the strongest could survive; Some would exit or fall out It'd always be the best Entity of extreme excellence All boys sound and brimmed! Catapult of coiling character All boys virtuous and righteous! Today, we are proud alumni Eligible to rendering to our country services To prove that we did learn from the school.