The Devil's Running Shoes

The gloom outside pervaded the hall
And one could've split the tension with an axe
For a young offender stood beside our principal
Who clutched a nasty-looking cane swore by the few
Who'd passed through its test
That the stinging end tasted like a wasp's.

It was clear every mango tree in our school yard
Was planted, manured and watered by a school child
But the fruits eventually became
Like most things in school - OUT OF BOUNDS!
So the naughty ones were always
Bent and eager to outstrip the authority.

The principal calmly asked Ben,
Still hugging his greenish-yellow prize,
Why he did what he'd just done.
The lad replied in a voice that wavered:
'I was tempted by the devil, sir.'

The sternness left the elderly man's face.
'Unfortunately, the devil fled but we caught up with you.
When next he comes beckoning,
My son, ask for his running shoes.
Tell him too about our school's don'ts and do's
And don't forget to tell him of my big stick too.'

'In fact, we've heard so much about him,'
Our head teacher expanded,
'Bring his address with you
Next time you or anyone else is caught.
I, my teachers, staff and my big stick
Would like to visit him too.'

'Yes, sir,' Ben said lamely, prolonging his nods.
Every inch of the assembly hall lightened up.