The little red schoolhouse
that sits on the hill
has a little brass bell
above the wishing well.
 
Children bound 
from the open doors
upon the completion 
of their chores.

Pondering school, 
I grew blue; 
school could be so cruel.
Surviving it all, 
no one’s help did I call.

But to live in a world of real 
employment is no big deal.