Early Monday morning,
I awake at seven. I pack my bag,
Wash, dress, eat;
And then to school, my feet I drag.
Our principal awaits us at the gate
With his arms X-crossed,
He carries an ironic smile on his face
To make sure that no time is lost.
Our teachers also make sure
That we are in our uniforms and blue-tied;
Neatly dressed,
And shoelaces tied.
Our school is very much complete,
But we, the brats of the folk.
Break times are the best: talking with friends,
Eating our sandwiches, and drinking our Coke.