'Mr Hawthorne woke up too late'

A student gave me this poem which he wrote about my recent fall and resulting wrist sprain.

I am flattered, and somewhat perturbed. It seems my poetry lessons have not been in vain.

Here it is, in its entirety (grammar and spelling errors excepted). Enjoy.

Mr Hawthorne woke up too late
He quickly ate some yoghurt, on a plate.
If he did not hurry, he would miss the bus
So he grabbed his stuff, and started to rush.

When he arrived, it was driving away
He sprinted after, he did not want
To miss his work day

During his sprint he suddenly fell
'Ouch', he cried, and let out a yell
The bus driver spotted him, crawling on the ground
He then stopped the bus and turned it around

Mr Hawthorne managed to get on board,
But his hand was sore

He arrived at work with a swollen hand
But he didn't go home, 'cos he's the man

He taught two lessons, but his hand got worse.
Miss Harris told him to go to the nurse

Mr Hawthorne called his doctor with his phone
The doctor looked at it, and told him he had broken a bone.

The moral of the story is if you break a bone
You should visit a Doctor
Or just go home