There is one beautiful lady in this class;
She is not too dark
And of course not too brown,
She is not as well light-
She wears but actually the most beautiful dress,
She has those light clothes,
Others long and others short like ahyphen,

They are too long and too short.
When she wears them,
I see her long, bonny, rotten legs
Dark and light and brown.
It is worse that they are thin.

I insist there is a woman in this class,
I might be young but my eyes can see,
It is not my knowledge saying all these.
I am not an angel to see
What is inside her skirt.
It is only her clothes that release her cats.
They do it all to my eyes.
They generously show me their
Raw, half baked thighs.
These tempts my friend’s shy eyes,
For he is still young and innocent,
He has not known the world.
What a shame for they are spoiling him so early.

There is a woman in this class,
Don’t ignore my little words,
I still insist, there is a woman in this class.
This lady is the most beautiful,
The most beautiful of our time,
For all she does affects but our time.


There is a woman in this class,
She is a professional teacher,
Whose other name has no problem to be a cheater.
Her dainty walks and her talks,
On those so called shoes,
Sometimes also called hills.

There is a woman in this class,
Her shoes keep drumming as she walks,
And all the attention in class is owned by her,
And like a centipede, she walks gracefully.
No, no, no!Please, a centipede is quicker,
She moves like a snail,
To make sure all eyes and minds are on her.

There is a woman in this class,
I saw a woman in this class,
This is one of the friends among all friends,
Who has fully entertained me,

There is a woman in this class,
She is not too fat and not too slender,
Somehow, I will be biased,
If I say she is thin…..she just has her fair muscles.
She is a young she-elephant,
With a complete complexion accompanied,
With immaculately rotten words,
Her mouth is more or less a toilet,
Overflowing with smelling “tool” called words.
From it come stinky words,
Too smelly-odorous like dead carcass.

There is a woman in this class,
Whom I don’t want to leave untouched,
For my mouth will smell because of unused words,
Leave me to save my cautious mouth,
For I only say what I see in her.


There is a woman in this class,
This woman has a hole in her mouth,
From which words unexpectedly,
Keep stealing out and dropping and falling off,
As if almost stupid or maybe ignorant…..
But no no……….that may not be true.
This must be professional adolescence,
Due to their mental virginity.

There is a woman in this class I still insist,
Leave me to say my words,
She is such a courageous woman,
So bold is she like mother lion,
She is not afraid of shame,
She fights her own dignity,
She minds less about purity,
Even after the reverend,
Castrates them in the chapel,
With those double edged swords and knives
From the” mother book”, the book of all manners.

There is a woman in this class,
She is such a woman, a woman I never met,
For her words,
Like death,
Come anytime, anywhere and I think everywhere.
There is a woman in this class,
I wonder when she will grow,
Others call it maturity or behaviour or manners,
And perhaps learn to behave,
Or even learn to keep shut her mouth,
Her rotten leaking mouth losing words every time,
For she is one,
A friend I for long never had,
The woman I met,
My beautiful friend.