Oh! he is of a wondrous sort,
A simpleton as he is, believes in wrong notion,
Measures his success in number of laughs that dart,
From the lips of the pupils with great commotion:
'Nagger' is the next man, true to his name
Looks upon fault finding as his avowed duty
Never praises any, but ever craves for fame
Resorts to cane for discipline...that's his beauty.
The last of the preceptors is called the Peter Pan
A happy-go-lucky, desires to be one with the taught
Refuses to grow wise, with age in his life's span
But sheds light on kids, whom he loves a lot.
Whom shall you cast your vote for?
Who will lead you to the goal afar?
Well dear, think deeply before selection,
Lest you come to grief for wrong election.