The Ballad of Mr. HigginsA Poem by kaffreenA poem about my old English teacher, which I wrote in class over the duration of a lesson. Terrible teacher, but a nice man, albeit a bit odd.In his moustache lies remnants of a past baguette Hidden are the morsels of a tasty omelette Grey and bristly is what that thing is This is the ballad of Gerard Higgins. A tweed coat envelopes his tiny frame His hideous ties make me cringe with the shame I'd jump for joy if it meant I could pass His boring, horrendously pointless class. I made the mistake of flirting with Higgy Because now, to my horror, he wants to get jiggy I cannot be arsed with his pitiful lecture About metaphors, similes and bloody conjecture. He thinks he's amusing with his tales of the past Well Mr Higgins, you can kiss my sweet a*s For I care not for poems about Colonel Shaw And close reading papers? Just sook ma baws. To conclude, little children, I once was a genius At English, but thanks to that mouldy old penis I'm failing to f**k, 'twas not my intention 'Why, Mr Higgins?' I moustache you this question.
© 2010 kaffreenAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorkaffreenHamilton, United KingdomAboutI never really know what to put in these boxes without sounding completely and utterly self indulgent. more..Writing
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