Before we gave seatbelts a chanceThe WAY-BACK was beyond mom's glance,My sisters and brothersAnd sometimes some othersWould tickle me till I peed in my pants....true story.
One time I was up for three days.My world was one giant haze.I talked to Dan Buck,And he was in luck,For I had brought some Baked Lays...?Wow that was awful...Now for something you and Wiki just taught me.Narthex is the church entranceAnd was reserved for penitents.It was Byzantine,And can have a screen.You could also baptize infants.It's a little slant-y but oh well, I never claimed to be good at these.
I'm really not a nave at allBut "narthex"? What else can you can call?For name changing hobbySay "foyer" or "lobby"But "narthex"? C'mon! What the hall!
Prescriptions can be pretty priceyBut generics can also be diceyCan't stand Dr. Pepper?Wal-Mart's got one betterSouthern Lighting! Mmmm! Now that's spicy!
If the dating scene seems to complexTry your skillz in the church narthexYou can get on your flirtOver bulletin insertsWith chicks older than Oedipus Rex
In our '79 LTD FordChild safety laws were ignoredThe backseat was crammedAnd seat belts be damnedIt was literally "Baby on Board"
Don't make me pull over this car.I've told you, I don't know how far.Now hands off your sisterand listen up, mister,Before I take away your candy bar.
Ten o'clock and off to bed I creep,My hopes resting on a deep, long sleep.Many find their dreams to their liking,Even Ralph Wiggum dreams he's a viking.But when I see its 3 A.M., I weep.When your child's cough leaves you irrate,Give them Wal-tussin to expectorate.But I give you fair warning,When you get up next morning,Their room you'll have to redecorate.
I don’t lose any sleep over RasmussenAnd I agree with Dan when he’s not cussin’But a few words when he talksGive me syllabus shock—What in the narthex is Wal-tussin?!?
Gosh darn it! You know I can't sleep,You're snoring like you are a Jeep,If this noise keeps going-IS YOUR NOSE A BOEING?!-Forget it. I'm counting Peep's sheep!-joey
"Essay" this, and "grading scale" that.My syllabi stack is so fat.My heart's only solace,Is that Jazz Prof. Gonzales,Didn't fill hers with any old scat.-joey
The Prof's LimerickCreating each semester's class syllabusIs my personal Scylla and Charybdis. I want to work rock your headWithout killing you deadI'd worry less if I quit and smoked cannabis.**Note. I don't smoke weed and never have tried it. I imagine that if I did I would be an unemployed slacker who didn't worry about creating college classes. If this is an innacurate depiction of the lifestyle and attitude of pot smokers, please do not correct me. I don't want to know that you know that. Really, it was just an awesome rhyme!
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