Thin like a smallish serpent,
Yellowish and paly long,
Created for us all to repent ,
Of our sausy tongue.

It's whips so horrible,
For a disobedient mind.
It's strokes do terrible,
Than a tiger's bite kind.

Your whips make us cry,
As your strokes reach our back,
Just because we always try,
To emulate a goat's track.

Oh!, Teach me to learn so,
I can rebel my teacher's rod.