The Dungeon School

The school was like a dungeon,

The classrooms as small as cells,

The teachers are really strict there,

It's like the road to hell.

P.E is the torture hour,

English is the lesson of hell,

If you don't want to be hung,

You're not allowed to tell.

This may be the last thing I write,

The teachers are onto me now,

Someone please help me escape,

Someone please tell me how.

The teachers are right behind me,

They've got a nasty gun,

They chase pupils down the corridor,

Just for their own sense of fun.

There is this corridor,

That I have not yet seen,

It's a short cut to the Head's,

Where the rooms surprisingly clean.

There aren't any mirrors,

Nor are there any lights,

It's the moons reflection on the window,

That makes the room so bright.