Oh no! Not him again! The despair descends on the class
As the teacher tells us, “Get out your Shakespeare.”
We call him Bill Waggadagga, trying to make light of it;
But he is not funny, to our immature minds.
What will it be today?
Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well,
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, or,
Once more unto the breech.
Not that it really matters, why can’t we have modern works,
Ones that we understand, ones that mean something
To our immature minds
We don’t understand these strange words!
The teacher seems to want a pound of flesh,
I would willingly pay just to miss, this
Incomprehensible drivel,
Being fed to us with a big shovel.
We’re told he is important in English Literature
Why, if we don’t know what it means?
How can we appreciate it, at a time when,
We are not remotely interested
I wonder how many people, out there,
Do not know, or wish to know, about Shakespeare
Because they were force fed, his uncomprehended words at school.
I know that I am one!