That was a shed , my preschool ,With a roof of dried palm leavesA shattering and old oneThe teacher there was An old man with crossed eyes As a marshal always has a caneIn hand to make us learnSitting on the ground , polished With cow dung , we learn Alphabets , on sand Yes that was our slate We always wait for Neethu,The daughter , purple eyed ,Of the landlord in the villageAlways came in a a bull cart.She was so cuteIt is she made my little heart Dreaming .Little dreamsOh Neethu where are you nowI miss you really .
