‘School’ Poems

English, maths, geography,
Science, history, French,
Teachers, homework, uniforms at schools.
Wouldn’t it be brilliant
If we just went there to play?
Then we’d all grow up to be such happy fools.

I’m cleverer than my teachers

My history teacher can’t add up.
My math teacher can’t spell.
My English teacher cannot play the trumpet very well.

My music teacher cannot draw.
My art teacher can’t dance.
My drama teacher doesn’t know the capital of France.

But I can do all of these things,
So maybe it should be
That they should be the pupils
And the teacher should be me.

I wish my school was chocolate

I wish my school was chocolate
With liquorice corridors
And classrooms made of raspberry
With fruit jelly on the floors.

I wish the gym was candy floss
With bubble gum for balls,
The canteen made of nougat
With fruit pastilles on the walls.

I wish the doors were lollies
And the desks were candy eggs,
The chairs were made from icing
With pink marzipan for legs.

I wish our books were paper rice,
Our ruler’s gingerbread,
Our pencils made from humbugs
With sticky toffee for the lead.

I wish that all the teachers
In the school were soft and sweet
Then, during boring lessons,
We’d have something nice to eat.
I hate getting up

I hate getting up in the morning.
I hate climbing out of my bed.
I like to stay under the covers.
Just leave me alone, like I said.

It’s raining outside and it’s still dark.
To make me get out is so cruel.
I’m going to stay here ‘til the weekend.
I don’t want to go into school.

Stop pulling the sheets – it’s not working.
And switch off that blooming alarm.
I’m safe in here, snuggled up cosy,
Away from all danger and harm.

So phone them and say I’m not coming.
I don’t care if I get into trouble.
I’ll catch up tomorrow on all that I’ve missed,
When I’ll just have to teach the class double.

deer missus milligun

deer missus milligun
its not dew to the snoe
but littal peter perkins
too the skool tooday cant go.
he isnt playeing snoebauls
ore rideing on a slay
butt littal peter perkins
too the skool cant go tooday.
he hasunt bilt a snoeman
ore speld his naym with wee
but littal peter perkins
is ill (AACHOO! – you sea).
hees prommissed he will stae in
and get his hoamwurk dun.
heel bee bak wen the snoe has gon.
peter perkins mum

A remote controlled teacher

Wouldn’t it be great if I had a remote control for my teacher?
And, wherever I was in the class, the signal would still reach her?
When she’s on the boring bits of the class (which is actually quite a lot),
I could press FAST FORWARD so that she thinks that it’s break time when it’s not.
And when I haven’t heard something important because I’ve been yapping to my friend,
I could REWIND her so that she says it again and then FAST FORWARD her past the boring bits to the end.
If I needed to nip out to the shops to buy some of that extra sour bubble gum,
I could PAUSE her, get my coat with my money in it and dawdle all the way to the corner shop to buy some.
I could even chew it for ages until I had a huge glob of it in my mouth and then stick it to her chair,
Or I could walk right up to her, blowing the biggest bubble ever blown until it explodes all over her hair.
I could change channels and see if there are any nicer teachers on the other side,
Or I could turn the volume right down so that her terrible, screeching voice doesn’t interrupt me when I’m tired and bleary eyed.
But the best thing that I could do would be to press that button with the small black square on it to make her STOP!
And then that red OFF button that you always find on a remote controlright at the very top.
I think that I would be very popular with my friends.
What is the cause of the tides?

My science teacher asked of me,
“What is the cause of the tides in the sea?
Why does the ocean rise and fall?
Do you know at all?”

I scratched my head and I said to he,
“Is it the ships that sail the sea?
Or the southerly wind? Or the rains that pour?
I’m really not that sure.

Is it the monsters that lurk beneath,
When they swish their tails and they gnash their teeth?
Or the warm volcanoes that erupt below?
Please tell me, I don’t know.

Is it the continents drifting around?
Or the oil they drill from deep underground?
Or pirates of old that have long ago died?
So what’s the cause of the tides?”

He said, “I’ll tell you - it’s none of these
That makes the tides on the Seven Seas.
It isn’t the ships or the winds that blow.
It isn’t the rain or the monsters below.

It isn’t volcanoes or lands on the drift,
Or buccaneers with immortality’s gift.
But look way up high from your window tonight,
At the man in the moon with his silvery light,
And the way that he moves ‘cross the dark, southern skies.
Then you’ll know the cause of the tides.”

© Copyright Mike Lucas