St Columba's Oh How We Love You
How crap is our school? It's falling apart.
They spend momey on things we don't need.
A tenth boys toilet, a pointless garden.
When none of it's pupils can read
Goths in the covered way corner.
Teenyboppers cry when Steps end.
Neds shout abuse at them all.
These three gangs ain't wahat you call friends.
The cholesterol level's sky high in our school.
With the chip van sitting outside.
For chocolatey goodness the icey is there.
We'll leave school ten miles wide.
The heating breaks when it's turned on
Which is usually in summer or spring.
John Major only appears in a crisis,
Or when the choir is due to sing.
The resources in school ain't up to much.
The computers are all antiques.
The PSD course was written by monkeys,
And of gas the annexe reeks.
The teachers got their skills from a lucky bag.
Which explains why everyone picks,
Craft and daft and simple science.
(they're not exactly quick).
The teachers on our school are very strange.
Take McGrory for example one.
With his combover, fake limp and lisp,
No awards for tact he has won.
Mr Ford and his afro, Mrs Wittaker's on drugs.
Mr Fleming's a sarcy git.
Mr Farmer's hair is so long,
From the back he's cousin It.
Mr Lynn from the fifties is so monotonous.
Mr Alan has the shakes.
Mrs McKenna's a little bit slow.
But what skills do you need to bake cakes?
Mrs McGhees glasses are too big,
And what exactly does she teach?
Mr Sangster's a wannabe goth.
A goal he'll never reach.
Mr Aitkin believes he's God.
Mr Kay HAD a bare upper lip.
Mr Hughes is slightly red,
More keys on those trousers and the floor will dip
Mrs McLean's a bit of a hippy
.Mr Sweeney's on a caffeine high.
Mrs Boyle's an albino mouse.
Mrs Bannan, that sheep jumper, WHY?
We know this poem makes no grammatival sense.
But what do you expect from two third years.
Sorry English department if we have failed you.
But in humorous poetry we shall have careers.
By Lelly and China