Mrs. Twomey chalked on the board,
a crude fish with a frowny face,
and little lines for the water flow.
She taught geography, often replaced
by this particular advisory:
"Now, girls, don't be the dead fish
that flows with the stream."
"Which fish should we be, Miss?"
We'd delight in distracting her,
in a place where a nun would often
tell the class that she knew there were
two in the room intended for the convent.
