I wouldn’t want to be late

There goes Mugabo with his rickety rickety bicycle.That old rickety bicycle that goes whining up the hillIt whines all the way to the school compound And then all the way to the teachers’ roomThey call it the staff room.

There goes Mugabo with his rickety rickety bicycle.
That old rickety bicycle that goes whining up the hill
It whines all the way to the school compound 
And then all the way to the teachers’ room
They call it the staff room.

I have to run faster than Mugabo’s rickety bicycle.
And it is such a fast old animal
Carrying an old tough bird
With an old strong cane:
Whose lashes I dread
I wouldn’t want to be late.

No sir
I wouldn’t want to be late.
Not in a million beautiful years
Mugabo’s old strong cane,
The dread of all children
Is my dread too.

My teacher Mugabo
The very old but witty Mugabo
His picture before my eyes
His voice in my mind
Makes me run to school,
Early every morning,
Early to Class
And early to learn
I can hear his voice rising
And falling
Warning
Encouraging
Motivating
And sometimes threatening

That, and the old strong cane,
The old rickety rickety bicycle
Carry my feet forward each beautiful morning.

Ends

 

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