Growing pale with sorrow
Why not kick up your heels?
Springing on your back
I will tame you,
We will scamper to the prairies
And skin some bears.
[35] That was the poem Mr. Withersq had wrote, he thought of it because of some cinemas he used to see.
The teacher seazed his head between his hands and beat it madly on his desk and shreiked very loud.
“Ah,” he gasped as though washing in cold water, “this is immense, this is a charming poem, ah me, ah me, it is truly wonderful!”
And he wept tears.