Once again, I can not think,

For some boy went to get a drink,

And the girls behind me won't be quiet,

Yet they think that I do not mind it.

They keepon talking, andlaughing,

And whispering, without stopping.

Now Bill has to sharpen his pencil,

I think the whirring is driving me mental.

The girls now need and rhyme and rhythm,

Maybe I aught to go back and hit'em.

At least the boys already shut up'a,

Maybe they'll remain so til suppah'.

Megan and Christie say their's are bad,

Their whining is starting to make me mad.

Why can't they zip it and begin to write,

And let me keep my topic in sight?

Finally they begin to whisper,

Yet they continue to complain and bicker.

I no longer mind, my poem is done.

(Well, this class certainly wasn't much fun...)