I know there are constraints,

And you really don’t want to hear these complaints,

But these desks are in bad shape.

It’s like they are being fixed with tape.

We move them around

So our troubles don’t abound.

We hope our desks are whole,

And not missing a pole.

The trouble of disrepair;

It’s only one of a pair.

Next is the mess.

What’s under the desks, I can only guess.

Is this some gum?

Is that some plum?

No one wants to find out,

So we all just sit and pout.

The janitors don’t clean it,

And it’s slowly becoming a cesspit.

Sorry for the complaints,

And I once again recognize your constraints,

But please fix these things,

Just like you would a car with dings.

If you do, you’ll make me happy;

Just like a brand new pappy.