some of our teachers were awful nice
and the harbour of sweet peccadillos
(having to deal with us every day
would make anyone crazy..)

and i suppose they took refuge in
their insect collecting in abyssinia..
(pasttimes tinged in the exotic
and a nod to the sadistic..)

but  love of keats and wordsworth (etc)...
miraculously remained undiminished..
(while demonstrating lethal aims and
a plethora of different pain..

one used the leg of a chair and another
gave his weaponry girl´ s names..
i guess they were just as bored as we were
how the season´ s waxed and wained..)

they still retained their soulful natures
a wonder of testament to the great genius
of elliot yeats and so forth..!
their fundamental faith undimmed...