It's clear our Bookman is no fool;
For he survived a Catholic school!
With all its cold, dogmatic twists,
It yardsticks slammed on tender wrists,
The sisters gaunt with glares of ice,
The place can't have been very nice!
But Mom's own son, our Bold Rapaire
Made lemonade from lemons, there.
In any case, howe'er contrived it,
The major thing is, he survived it!