There goes Mugabo with his rickety rickety bicycle.That old rickety bicycle that goes whining up the hillIt whines all the way to the school compound And then all the way to the teachers’ roomThey call it the staff room. I have to run faster than Mugabo’s rickety bicycle.And it is such a fast old animalCarrying an old tough birdWith an old strong cane:Whose lashes I dreadI wouldn’t want to be late. No sirI wouldn’t want to be late.Not in a million beautiful yearsMugabo’s old strong cane,The dread of all childrenIs my dread too. My teacher MugaboThe very old but witty MugaboHis picture before my eyesHis voice in my mindMakes me run to school,Early every morning,Early to ClassAnd early to learnI can hear his voice risingAnd fallingWarningEncouragingMotivatingAnd sometimes threatening That, and the old strong cane,The old rickety rickety bicycleCarry my feet forward each beautiful morning. Ends
