The Courtier

This is about one of the social studies teachers, Mr. Deaton. It is the meanest one of the bunch.

Among our competitors is a man

That I, in all honesty, cannot stand.

I will keep this short so as not to rant.

For starters he could make no woman pant

For he is only average in looks

And the only things he could have shook

Are the germs he kills with his obsession:

Killing filth is his only true mission.

No matter how fancy and bright his dress

Very, very useless is his finesse.

When I was his follower I learned not

Any one of the things he should have taught.

For he was far to busy chit-chatting

About his braces, which made a matting

Of annoyance and anger in my mind

That has already stood the test of time.

I truly care not for why he competes

But from him I expect only deceit.