Class Clown

Goodmorning, Ms. Morrison!

Welcome to Jean Gordon:

The finest elelmentary school

In all of New Orleans…

Where kids can get hip

To the precious ettiquette

Of pinky extending

With every chocolate milk sip…

So they’ll grow up

To be somebody important.

Goodmorning, Ms. Morrison!

It’s your favorite student…

The one you call “special”,

With a casual rudeness.

But you don’t know the half of it,

I gotta say it’s kinda foolish

To pick me

To pick on

Before you know just what you’re doing…

Yeah I ate a couple spiders,

Yeah I made some random noises,

And I didn’t line up for you

Like a good little boy.

Put me in the closet for a standardized test?

Ms. Morrison, that’s why I had to

Flip the damn desk.

That’s why I had to make a

Mashed-potato mess

Of your gorgeous floral dress,

When you made me sit against the wall at recess.

Then you wanna put me down


By electing me Class Clown,

For the whole 3rd grade to see…

Well who’s laughing now,

It definitely isn’t them…

And it isn’t you,

Since my Mama went down

To that elementary…

You know, a teacher is supposed

To reinforce the confidence

That a good parent instills,

While focusing on our weaknesses,

To make us movers and shakers

Of the New World

You slip into…

But I’m a Class Clown to you.

Ms. Morrison, I’m glad we crossed paths.

You still manage to make me laugh…

I think you might be

A Class Clown.

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