When first sent to School (now the Station was Rugby) <br />I fancied my masters and took to the boys; <br />I thought to myself--here 'tis plain I shall snug be <br />Revolving at last in an orbit of joys: <br />The Alphabet Grecian I quickly could stammer, <br />Nor ran any risk of a jaw out of joint; <br />I waddled sedately through Fatherland Grammar, <br />But own I was floored by the Decimal Point! <br /> <br />Le Roi de Montagnes was my Gallic translation, <br />And soon I was praised by my master, who said:-- <br />"I certainly deem that, with good education, <br />A Scholarship laurel should circle your head!" <br />I revelled in idioms; I thrilled at the phrases; <br />I knew how to render "avaunt" and "aroint," <br />But own that I shed many tears on the daisies <br />Of Rugby when stumped by the Decimal Point! <br /> <br />I mastered the building proceedings of Balbus, <br />And rarely omitted a requisite cum; <br />I never remarked that an equa was albus, <br />And deftly supplied the subjunctive with quum! <br />No canis to me was a dog in the manger-- <br />A classic by Fate I was clearly anoint! <br />I own, though, I ran into desperate danger <br />When fogged and be-fooled by the Decimal Point!<br /><br />Norman Rowland Gale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-decimal-point/
