Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357718" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Town Types No. 16 - Mr Tank</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twice one are two; twice two are four.'<br>I can still hear it floating thro' the old school door:<br>Those childish voices falling, rising in rhythmic chant,<br>In a room where heat is prevalent and ventilation scant.<br>'Twice nine are eight-teen.' And, presiding o'er the scene,<br>Like a demon in a 'panto,' blackavised and racked with pain,<br>Urging on the chorus faster, towers Mr Tank, the master,<br>With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane <br>His cruel, thrice-accursed rattan cane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some incurable affliction soured his spirit, it was said;<br>For, above his brow, an ever-present plaster decked his head.<br>'Twice one are two; twice two are four -'<br>And suddenly the master disappeared behind the door.<br>For 'twas said, too, his affection had instilled a predilection<br>For too-frequent nips of liquor on the sly now and again.<br>And they boded fell disaster for gaunt Mr Tank, our master,<br>With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane <br>His ever-swinging, torture-bringing cane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He 'kept us in' one afternoon till summer dusk came down,<br>While, as the elder scholars knew, he liquored in the town,<br>And a dozen big boys rushed him as he swayed in at the door,<br>And they poured ink on his whiskers as he grovelled on the floor.<br>And we small kiddies stood about, mouths agape, eyes popping out,<br>To see our dreaded teacher branded with this shameful stain.<br>For no idol could loom vaster than grim Mr Tank, the master,<br>With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane.<br>But they broke to bits his terrifying cane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twice one are two, twice two are four' <br>The chant arose next morning, while, across the ink-stained floor,<br> Mr Tank, ashamed but savage, glowered at the trembling class . . . <br>But my thoughts of him grow gentle as the mellowing seasons pass.<br>Now, when hard-won knowledge fails me, straight an olden dread assails me,<br>And, a phantom cane, descending sharply stirs my wits again,<br>And I bless stern Tank, the master, with his strip of sticking-plaster,<br>And his mutton-chop whiskers, and his cane <br>Most especially, his wisdom-waking cane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357718" data-title="Old Town Types No. 16 - Mr Tank de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="'Twice one are two; twice two are four.'
I can still hear it floating thro' the old school door:
Those childish voices falling, rising in rhythmic chant,
In a room where heat is prevalent and ventilation scant.
'Twice nine are eight-teen.' And, pr..."></div>
</div>
</div>