“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!