Chunda Poem by Kevin East

'Chunda', that's what we called him
The old man teaching young men
Could have been standing in front of a mirror.
Our schoolboy 'Mr Chips',
'Chunda'.
That's how we got him riled
He probably turned his back and smiled.
The chaos he put up with, the practical jokes,
'Chunda'.
Old fashioned Chunda, he was slow but sincere
He would swear with us all, he wasn't a fool.
Until he died, that was foolish..
Blackboards and chalk and the last day of term,
His last day.
'Chunda', you were the best.