Don't Run, Gentlefolk. Walk.

They told us not to run at school A motto I uphold religiously I'm no fool. My lack of speed while walking Is prodigiously Controlled. I only break my vow, Sacred as a Trappist vow of silence, And allow myself a trot When now and then the Ice-cream Van shoots past Playing "Greensleeves" or some such merry air. To be fair I then trot rather fast. To purchase several cornets of Vanilla. Five for me and two for my Gorilla. I give her less cos she drips it on her dress Her table manners rather less than perfect, I'm afraid but she has no other defects Apart from wrecking benches in the zones When she sits down to lick her ice-cream cones. A wall is better and we have a ball Watching the sad commuters rushing by Last minute Johnnies, sometimes I sigh. If only they had been to proper schools Where walking at a priest's pace was the norm. The poor fools!