“If it Wasn’t so Cliche” by George Cox

 

Cold as ice–this morning’s fate,

And my coat, old as Moses,

Cannot warm me, makes me late

To “Our Lady of Roses.”

I try to catch the school’s gate

Minutes before it closes.

I open the room’s door. Whooosh!

Teacher’s frown is worn from use

As I beat around the bush

To come up with some excuse.

But then when shove comes to push

I’ll put up with her abuse.

Straight as an arrow in flight

I fly to my waiting seat,

And try with all of my might

To keep up the students’ beat.

Everyone laughs at my plight

As I rub my aching feet.

Time passes quick as a whip

(For lunch we eat beans and franks).

We give the teacher some lip

And just a few childish pranks!

When Joey gives her the slip,

He asks, “You?” I say, “No Thanks!”

Before she knows he is gone

Joey tampers with the locks,

Has said to a friend, “Come on,

Get her to look in the box!”

Then he, brave as a lion,

Walks on out, sly as a fox.

Teacher soon sees that he fled,

Snug as a bug in a rug,

And she tilts her old gray head

To one side and gives a shrug.

“His future is all but dead!

It’s his own grave he’s dug.”

I think about her wisecrack,

As we pack our things to leave,

Will she give Joey the sack

Forcing his heart on his sleeve?

Or give him a lot of flak

For practicing to deceive?

Soon everyone hit the road,

But I stay to find my coat.

Just me and Teacher—“The Toad”

Whose smile is very remote!

“I saw it by the commode

Ask Joey—He’s got my vote!”

The moon is out this ev’ning,

And to home I make my way

My coat is wet and drying

And I’m cold. Typical day!

Joey’s neck I’d like to ring

If it wasn’t so cliché!