Makin' my rhyme,

wastin' my time,

Until the end of the hour,

The bell done went sour,

Tim is a chill,

Somebody got ill,

Typing in the background,

Think of runnin' out of town,

Mrs. Lee is cool,

She's no fool,

I hate it when I drool,

Quit saying, you tool,

Mrs. Jones got bones . . .

In her body,

Just like Lodie Doddi,

I once had a hobby,

That I kept in a lobby,

I called it a hobba,

Like the Dolly Lamma,

I stubbed my toe,

And it never did grow,

So I ate it like corn on the cobba.