It's Friday, it's English, we're looking at verse,
And writing our own just to make matters worse.
"Not finished? It's homework," the teacher decides,
I've nothing, just scribble, and that fills two sides.
Time's getting tight now, I must make a start,
Come on brain, just focus! I haven't the heart.
I must think of something - the seasons, a cat?
My friends says, "Don't copy, I'm doing that!"
Need help from my classmates, "Psst, what rhymes with sit?"
Someone says rude words, we all have a fit.
The teacher is prowling, I'm feeling the heat,
"I've made lots of notes, Miss, I'll just make them neat."
The bell goes, oh damn it, I must take it home,
"There's loads on this weekend," I say with a moan.
It's Saturday, still nothing, I'll leave it, I'm tired,
Perhaps in the morning I'll wake up inspired.
Dad says, "It's easy, pretend it's a song,
Here's some Bruce Springsteen, he's not got it wrong."
A song is a poem, with rhythm and rhyme,
I've no inspiration, I can't make one mine<