(Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses, about the Protestant reform, to the door of the Castle Church, Wittenberg on 31st October, 1517...)
It should cause something of a stir
Once pencils sharp, in a upcoming academic year, My namesakes strong days date comes round His ninety-five theses to resound: And I, today, in exactly my small way Have made something of the same headway: The downward middle classes ire Has drawn in timely fashion my fire; Of course youll say its just a school Youre really, Martin, quite a fool
To get het up oer students jape
And take it as some kind of rape... But Quizleteers and Facebook friends Ye lap dogs! hear how matter ends! I blaze through Matzalkas seething rain With anger coursing through my brain; With trusty hammer good and strong I replace the poster where the wrong Had infested itself with a small graffito Reminiscent of the Sussex Gruffalo! A sweetpacked smiling pinkish girl With whiteboard glinting like a pearl Resplendent in its power to logos Where ignorant orphans try to sod us; Underneath her, snakes a subtle text, In Latin, Hebrew, Greek, and next A kind of version for perplext My fathomless meaning whomso quest
Which, saying, tells that who the board
Portrays is not the binding word But whiteboard itself is, Roman wax Suitable alike for cursing cats And writing E is M C squared: Hungarian schoolings somewhat weird While Bach you cannot sing along Had Luther not first given him the song! My homeward journey falls less rain Blue puddles glint in roads, the twain With footpaths replete in escape from pain Of Natures wrath, and same again... O mortals! Wheneer we half transgress Comes swiftly Heavens chaste redress We write much, but still make a mess Or post too frankly, are tedious unless The Holy Spirit with great power
Cuts through black clouds, makes our hour!
My Luthers anniversary Schrift I will now confess and now from the record will lift: The small reaction that drew my blaze These watery, watercolour summer days! When I am gone, Magyaroszg Will still with its language make wag The myriad tongues upon the globe That text in Facebook, draw in Adobe, And live in three-part mystery The counterpoint of their lifes history. Come Propsero, withdraw the strobe! Ive had my innings at the Globe... As you from students would be set free Indulgence, friend, for me....not wrath! The rain still splashing in the street
My things at home still laid out neat,
For Luthers 499th, lets weep: Were brothers all, caught out finally in the deep, Chasing at last our own Old Hundreth!