I realised it was half past eight,
When I was trying to finish my plate,
And I went to class quite late,
To chemistry, which I hate.
The teacher made me wait,
For whatever reason she was irate,
And something I can't relate.
She yelled at me because of her hate,
Because I didn't concentrate,
And mixtures I didn't titrate,
Were lying upon the papermate.
She said I didn't concentrate,
And that I didn't equate,
With any problems being quite quaint.
She sent me into the class with a crate,
Something I cannot concentrate,
But I set it out as bait,
For any schmuck who might suffer the same fate.
I did my lab with lots to rate,
For suffering is my mate,
And I knew the trouble I had to date,
Was not quite the best to late.
But, I still try to relate,
No matter what my fate,
And I will be there right and straight,
For the pest time to concentrate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem