What Once was Math Class
Too hot or too cold.
Boredom almost killing,
Slumping in uncomfortable chairs,
Away from the group,
Like the wings of butterflies.
There once was a child from Detroit.
At fishing he was quite adroit.
He once caught a finger,
And then ceased to linger,
For his hands had been so maladroit.
There once was a pony from Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg
Who broke his foot on a log
He had been a runnin'
He was moved by a Djinn,
And found out that he was in a bog.