Adolescent Rhythm

Thirty-eight boys, in a state boys, from the feisty form three,
Fell in love with, touched the glove of, the delightful Miss Dee.
For she brought them, as she taught them, the wonders of art,
Loves perspective, irrespective of each timorous heart.

Foolish Miss Dee, could she not see, with her eyes clear and bright,
That she gave them, saints preserve them, troublesome dreams every night.
So vivacious, too curvaceous, mind sharp as a knife,
She intruded, they exuded, their monastical life.

Why did that lass, stride into class with her head held proud and high,
Softly glowing, so slyly showing that delectable thigh.
Although as such, it was too much for those scoundrels to see,
There was no rush, but a calm hush fell on the rogues of form three.

It does seem wrong, now that she’s gone, to raise three rousing cheers,
For sad little boys, who’ve lost their poise are usually bored to tears.
Sadly confused, feeling ill-used, too much troubled with doubt,
They never again, were ever the same for the light of their life went out.

Oh! Callous Miss Dee why did you leave three,
For they, broken hearted, from the day you departed,
Ceased to be boarders and took holy orders,
Swearing again and again never to suffer such pain,
And to avoid evermore love’s unbearable lore.

Now as broken young men they’re in bed before ten,
Where they nightmare Miss Dee 'til something past three,
Then they toss off their cares and run down the stairs,
To cry, “enough is enough!” then savage a plate of matron’s plum duff!