Canteen Quandary
Impatiently they watched the clocks And counted every second, So many scrumptious things in stock – The canteen seemed to beckon
The teacher’s voice was now but fluff, They squirmed within their seats, They’d prematurely packed their stuff And twitching were their feet
They hear the shrieking bell with glee, A shrill and piercing sound, Then quickly out the door they flee And scurry canteen-bound
And so begins the scattered race To reach the bag-rack first, What would Darwin say of this? Survival of the worst!
Caught up amongst this hopeless mess, I amble round the bend And sizing-up this queue contest, I join onto the end
Annoyed and irked and miffed I watch The front where those convene Who slip between their classmate’s spots And hope to go unseen
At last! I’m through! And there I find The guardian of the turnstile, But I, alas, am left behind “Please,” he says, “single file!”
Finally through that gate I’m sieved, That dreadful metal pen, But this relief is so short-lived As I line up once again
But from that hell once I am free I’m rushed towards by many, He has some wedges, surely he Will not refuse us any?
But then, I (much to my confusion) Glance down and sadly see, That in this generous distribution Almost none is left for me.
