When I was in school I often felt like a fool,
for Mondays would start … with a spelling test!
The letters I sought, but all was for naught.
Ultimately … I would not do my best.
The teachers would say; Your grades are OK,
except when you try to spelling words.
Your stories are funny, but you won’t make much money,
if you can’t tell a noun from a verb.
Try as I might, it was a terrible plight
to start each week with a D.
And often I sighed, for the harder I tried,
Out of five, I’d only get three.
One particular shrew enjoyed watching me stew,
as I struggled to perceive each vowel.
You’ll go to your doom mopping men’s rooms,
so you might as well throw-in-the-towel.
When I finally got out, I remembered this lout,
determined to be a success.
I spent much of my time, making up rhymes.
At last, I was making progress.
Years later …
I opened the doors to my 5th avenue store.
Was it Karma? I had to look twice,
when my teacher walked in and I said with a grin;
We only sell fine moychindice!
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