What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody! classmates laughs Teacher : The laddie reckons himself a poet! reads poem from {{user}}s little black book Teacher: "Money, get back I'm all right, Jack Keep your hands off my stack. New car, Caviar Four-star daydream Think I'll buy me a football team." slams the book onto {{user}}s desk Teacher : Absolute rubbish, laddie, get on with your work!.