A jingle sounds across the hall.
You raise your head and listen.
From far away, that sound comes near,
And something starts to glisten.
You groan and let your head drop back,
You wish him sudden pain,
For now you recognise that sound -
The 'bell end's' back again.
The nickname fits; it suits his style,
He made the bag his own...,
You want someone to jump him and,
Break each and every bone.