From Cardiff, early 60s.

One more day of school,
One more day of sorrow
One more day in this old dump
But we'll be home tomorrow.
God made the bees,
The bees made the honey,
We do all the dirty work
But teacher gets the money.

Come to our school, come to our school
It's a place of misery
There's a signpost on the corner
Saying welcome unto thee
Don't believe it, don't believe it
It's a pack of dirty lies
If it wasn't for the teachers
It would be a paradise
Build a bonfire, build a bonfire,
Put the teachers on the top.
Put the prefects on the bottom,
And burn the bloody/blooming lot. (Bloody & blooming varied. Blooming pronounce 'blumming')

Glory, Glory hallelujah.
Teacher hit me with a ruler.
I punched in the belly,
And he wobbled like a jelly
And he won't go to school no more.