Friday, December 28, 2012

The Songs We Sang

I don't even know how this stuff spread before the internets, but I moved around a lot when I was young and kids everyhere sang this song.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured all the teachers - we have broken all the rules
We ramrocked the offices and hung the principal
March on, third grade, march on!

Glory, glory, hallelujah
My teacher hit me with a ruler
I hid behind her door with a loaded .44
And the teacher don't teach no more!

And this:

On top of old smokey
all covered with blood
I shot my poor teacher
with a 44 slug
I went to her funeral
I went to her grave
everybody threw flowers
I threw a grenade

I shot her with pleasure,
I shot her with pride
I couldn't have missed her
she was forty feet wide

I have no deep thought on this, just throwing it out there.