There was one fiercely muscular fellow, who scowled at the sums on his slate,
And leered at the innocent figures a look of unspeakable hate,
And set his white teeth close together, and gave his thin lips a short twist,
As to say, "I could whip you, confound you! if sums could be done with my fist!"
There were two pretty girls in the corner, each one with some cunning possessed,
In a whisper discussing a problem: which one the young master liked best!
A class in the front, with their readers, were telling, with difficult pains,
How perished brave Marco Bozzaris while bleeding at all of his veins;
And a boy on the floor to be punished, a statue of idleness stood,
Making faces at all of the others, and enjoying the task all he could.