Birds on the mountain,
Fish in the sea,
How you passed add maths,
Is a mystery to me!
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I copied your paper,
And I flunked mine too.
My teacher loves me,
Thinks I’m dear,
She’s kept me for,
The Fourth straight year.
History’s a dead subject that’s,
As dead as it can be,
Once it killed the Romans,
And now it’s killing me.
When I die, bury me deep,
Burn my History book at my feet,
Tell the teacher I’ve gone to rest,
And won’t be back for the History test.
Now I lay me down to rest,
I pray to pass tomorrow’s test,
If I should die before I wake,
That’s one less test I’ll have to take.
Don’t worry if your grades are low,
And your rewards are few,
Remember that the mighty oak,
Was once a nut like you.
This is a poem which I got from school. It's from a joke book written by Singaporeans. I altered it a little to suit the rythms and our culture. I'm sure that most of you will agree with some of the content. If you do, post a comment about how you feel about this poem.
Anyway, don't take this poem seriusly and get offended if you are those type of serius bookworms like my friend 'L.H'. It's just a hilarious joke for students. It got my teachers and me laughing too.
