Without further ado, youth culture, from about 5 years ago, when it was very much my culture and I sang everyone of these, enthusiastically, on the bus. Frightening, isn't it?
Mine eyes have seen the glory
Of the burning of the school
We have torched all the teachers
We have broken every rule
We broke into the office
And we murdered the principal
Our truth is marching on!
Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a rulah
I met her at the door
With a loaded .44
And she ain't gonna teach no more!
Mine eyes have seen the glory
Of the end of PTA
Now my dad can see my mom again,
She doesn't have to say,
"I'm sorry, dear, there's a meeting,
I won't be home today."
My dad goes marching on.
Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a rulah
I met her at the door
With a loaded .44
And she ain't gonna teach no more!
Mine eyes have seen the glory
Of a great big long vacation
It will help to make the boys and girls
The leaders of the nation
Then we'll perform an operation
On the board of education
Our truth goes marching on.
Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a rulah
I met her at the door
With a loaded .44
And she ain't gonna teach no more!
I was dreamin of genie
With a ten foor weinie
And I showed to the girl next door.
She though it was a snake
And she hit it with a rake
And now it's only five foor four!
Tic-tac-toe, three in a row
Barney was shot by G.I. Joe
Mama called the doctor
And the doctor said,
"Whoops! Barney's dead."
Hail to the busdriver, busdriver, busdriver
Hail to the busdriver, busdriver man.
He drinks and he cusses,
And smokes on the busses,
All hail the busdriver, busdriver, busdriver
All hail the busdriver, busdriver man.
[to the tune of 'On Top of Spaghetti']
On top of the schoolhouse
All covered with blood
I shot my poor teacher
With a .44 slug
I went to her funeral,
I went to her grave.
Some people threw flowers,
I threw a grenade.
It blew up the city.
It blew up the town.
It blew my poor teacher
Right out of the ground.
Now it seems my poor teacher,
Was not quite dead.
So I took a machete,
And I chopped off her head.
From the halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of PTA
We will fight our teacher's battles
With spitballs and with clay.
We will fight for more recess,
And to keep our desks a mess.
We are proud to claim the title
Of the teacher's little pests.
From the halls of dear old school,
We will always teach the teachers
That we love them all so dearly,
We're angelic little creatures.
Yes, we love them all so dearly
And we love them most we say,
From the 30th day of June,
Right up to Labor Day!
From the halls of our dear old school
To the science and the math room
I tripped and lost my pretty books
On the way to the bathroom
I'm afraid they fell into the sink
ANd my soul was really crushed
SO I turned the wet water on
And down the drain they flushed.
From the halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of PTA
We will fight our teacher's battles
With spitballs and with clay.
We will fight for more recess,
And to keep our desks a mess.
We are proud to claim the title
Of the teacher's little pests.
In the summer when it's hot
I wear my pink pajammies
In the winter when it's not
I wear my flannel nighties
In the spring and the fall
When its not hot or cold at all
Sometimes I slip into the covers
Wearing Nothing At All
Glory, glory hallelejuh,
Balmy breezes blowing through ya
Through the sheets straight to ya
With nothing on at all
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkey meat, itty bitty birdy feet
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
And me without my spoon.
Some people eat hamburger meat
While other's like potatoes
And some must chew their Irish stew
Along with ripe tomatoes
I can't understand why in every land
They serve such peculiar dishes
Wherever I go, they always say no
When I tell them what my wish is
I scream for
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkey meat, itty bitty birdy feet
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
And me without my spoon.
I can pay my way in a French cafe
Which is big and quite expensive
Where the diners dine and the wine is fine
But I'm always apprehensive
When the menu comes, I twiddle my thumbs
At the list of fancy dishes.
Caviar and steak, champagne and cake,
Is never what my wish is.
I beg for
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkey meat, itty bitty birdy feet
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts
And me without my spoon.
In the life to come, I intend to hum
This hymn to old St. Peter
I won't need much to become a heavenly eater
I got the verses for this off a record which was my mom's when she was a kid. We, on my bus, did not sing verses. You will also notice that the last verse was never fully transcribed. That may be fixed, if I ever find the tape I made off the record. I have seen this chorus many different places, in several different forms, most notably in 'The Fledging' which is a Dell book, but I don't remember the author.
Christmas, a time of peace... right?
Deck the halls with gasoline
Fa lalalalalala lala la
Strike a match and watch it gleam
Fa lalalalalala lala la
Watch the school burn down to ashes
Fa lalalalalala lala la
Aren't glad you played with matches?
Fa lalalalalala lala la
Jingle bells, batman smells
Robin laid an egg
Batmobile lost a wheel
And Joker missed ballet!
There are several more which I haven't had the time to type up yet. I also would like anyone who knows a different version of any of these, or who knows any more, to please email them to me. Thanks!