By unknown Lisgar alumni – Submitted by Anirudh Bakshi:
The Last Bell
Up Lisgar street a long, thin line
Of pupils slowly moves;
Girls and boys, with loads of books,
In two’s and three’s and droves.
But as they slowly move along,
A frightful sound they hear,
Which make them run with all their might,
And cry aloud with fear.
A fearful grizzly, buzzing sound
Doth cause their hearts to quake,
They grit their teeth and clench their fists,
And to their heels they take.
It is the last bell which they hear
They have no time to stay,
And it behooves them that they move
As quickly as they may.
They rush along the echoing halls,
And up the sounding stairs,
But as they reach the classroom door,
They stop and tear their hair.
For when they see the door closed tight
They have to stand and wail
Until the portal open swings,
And they shall march in late.
If they should ever go to Heaven
And reach the Golden gate,
They’ll have to scoot at the trumpet’s toot,
Or they’ll surely be late.