It was a remote village, <br />A school teacher single, <br />With boys of assorted age, <br />Had to manage and tackle. <br /> <br />'Boys, Inspector, any time, <br />To inspect the school, <br />Is expected to come, <br />Be smart, ready and cool.' <br /> <br />'He may, perhaps, ask you, <br />The shape of the world, <br />My snuff box, all of you <br />See how it is round.' <br /> <br />'I'll keep it on my table, <br />For your remembrance here, <br />One of you should be able <br />To answer, have no fear.' <br /> <br />Suddenly on a Sunday, <br />Knowing it was a holiday, <br />He came to inspect, on his way <br />To his own village nearby. <br /> <br />The teacher rang the bell. <br />The boys were puzzled. <br />It was short of a hell, <br />To have them assembled. <br /> <br />Boys with unkempt hair, <br />Boys with soiled dress, <br />Boys with faces poor, <br />Took their seats in the class. <br /> <br />The teacher in a hurry, <br />Kept a square snuff box, <br />And was feeling sorry, <br />To miss his round box. <br /> <br />The boys, as expected, <br />Heard the same query <br />With their hands raised, <br />Kept the answer ready. <br /> <br />Up one of them stood, <br />And promptly he said, <br />'Square on all Sundays <br />And round on other days.'<br /><br />Rajaram Ramachandran<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-village-school-master/
