I’m not a strict follower of discipline,
In fact I haven’t ever been,

In school I’ve always been hauled up,
For one or the other letup,

Either my hair was not pinned back,
Or books not kept properly on the rack,

In fact, my hair has quite a story to tell,
It was oft found on my forehead to dwell,
Much against my teachers wish,
I let it freely in the breeze swish,
Then on one rainy day,
Our strict miss towards me made her way,
Then with a firm hand she did snip,
My lovely tresses in her hand did grip,
Lo and behold one moment there were my lovely locks,
Next they were gone, gone over the rocks,
I cried and cried till my eyes were sore,
But of what use my hair would not grow!

Then there was this other time,
I was pulled up for another crime,
I had come to the assembly with unpolished shoes,
So certainly I had to pay my dues,
And what was it that I had to pay?
Miss a monthly test for the day!

There have been umpteen times I’ve had to stand outside of class,
And pretend to be adjusting the notice board just as someone would pass,
It was more so when we had math,
That’s because our math sir was a strictopath!