At 0450 every morning, a teacher popped his right eye
Open, pushed aside blankets and turned on a tap
To wash his sleepy face
Then slid on trousers, a shirt and a tie.
He sipped a cup of tea
To wash down slices of a brown fritter.
It irked the Maths tutor how pupils could fritter
Away opportunities to sharpen their eye
For Maths processes but instead drunk lots of green tea
With no further thought on how to tap
Or strategise on how to tie
Maths loose ends; they smeared failure on their puzzled face.
In case Maths grades deteriorated, pupils failed to face
The truth but would instead throw a hot fritter
At a street vendor then they would tie
Loose laces from dusty shoes and eye
Lustfully a micro dress without repairing a tap
Leaking weekly alhough they didn't mind buying another packet of Ceylon tea.
Forced by circumstances, pupils would labour on a tea
Plantation to raise school fees although the stern headmaster's face
Didn't give them a chance to tap
Their feet to hiphop tunes while they selected the browniest fritter
From a basinful which caught the eye
Of vigilant prefects who looked forward to the Arsenal-Hotspurs London derby tie.
Pupils searched for a polka tie
Whose owner reported it missing alongside tea
Bags he left in his cubicle a few minutes earlier as an eagle's eye
Watched their every move whether they had an oval face
Or heart-shaped face that could swipe an extra fritter
While the class monitor won a bronze tap.
Because power outages were biting routines, the school decided to tap
The potential of solar power and insisted that pupils tie
Knots like boyscouts and enter a new fritter
Recipe competition besides cleaning plates, strainers and tea
Cups or else they could face
Censure with tears in their eye.
Pupils began to tap their potential to make decent tea
As they determined to tie bundles of smoked fish and powdered their puerile face
Of an angel to earn a fritter each as heaven prospects caught their eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem