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The wicked road troll ruins our roads
     With his pick, shovel and axe.
Ah yes, he knows the holes he makes
     They’ll mend with people’s tax.

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He does his deeds quite late at night,
     When you and I sleep tight,
And when he thinks of what’s to come,
     He laughs at all his spite.

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The morning’s traffic starts to flow.
     Oh think of those poor souls
As down their wheels go bump bump bump
     In lots and lots of holes.

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One driver’s hands wave in despair.
     He reaches for the phone
And asks someone to come and help
     And gives a fearsome groan.

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There’s someone else, sat at the back,
     Who seems to be quite cool
For that someone, with joy in heart,
     Will miss a day at school!

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PS:    With joy in heart?  Surely not!  Yes, she actually remembered the test that day!!  Don't forget I've been a teacher.  

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Copyright on all my poems

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