Mr. Pips

Written By Tim S Poma

To the worst teacher I ever had,
Boy he use to make me mad.
I think he was a math teacher,
But you couldn’t have guest it.
He was kneed deep in numbers,
And so dry he couldn’t relate,
To the people who he was trying to reach.
Up there on his high horse trying to preach,
Making things seem so out of reach.
I use to beg for understanding,
But boy this guy was to dame demanding.
So I use to goof around, laugh and joke,
And poke fun but never hoax.
Until one day I slipped up and I miss spoke.
I think I uttered something like “you’re class is a joke.”
“Quite clowning around” is the words that he made smoke
And that was the day you could hear my grade drown
Down in my chair I sank.
Quickly trying to play it off as a prank,
But he was not in to my slip of the tong silly mistake.
He got red in the face and really mad,
I told him he was the worst algebra teacher I ever had,
And then he sent me to the principals to call my dad.
Who knew that Mr. Pips could erupt?
Leading to my demise and the reason my report card was all effed up.


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