The teacher talks in a constant drawl.
Nobody listens, nobody at all.
He thinks we listen, he thinks we care,
We really don’t we play Truth or Dare.
He just stands there and lets us shout,
If looks could kill we would be dead no doubt.
He shouts at the boys, not at the girls,
We are the problem, they are the pearls.
His voice is beginning to grate like cheese,
We try to talk louder but it’s no release.
He tells us to be quiet, he’s angry now,
We can tell from the frown upon his brow.
The chavs start making a meowing noise,
They are treating Mr Turnip like one of their toys.
We don’t know how, I don’t know why,
The chavs set out to make turnip cry.
“Do you think this is funny? Well I don’t!”
He thinks this will stop us, well it won’t.
We are just taking the mick,
It’s something to do for a little kick.
You think us wrong, you think us cruel,
But as matter of fact, we don’t break a rule.
You see, we quite like Mr Turnip,
Even if we do give him some lip.
It’s all for the banter, all for the fun.
I know it’s stupid, in fact it’s dumb.
After the lesson, after the laughter,
We know Mr Turnip wants us well looked after.
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