| 12.15.2006 |
| A Poem: Carne's Class |
Today was the day
For another debate
And once the bell rang
The class started great
To begin with the outfit
What an interesting sight
The red fuzzy scarf
Was really quite bright
He pulled off the scarf
And walked towards his son
He draped it around Luke
'Cause he thought it'd be fun
Too many sodas
He got really hyper
Andrew probably wished
That he had his sniper
He let us eat candy
In his class
But usually with food
He won't let it pass
When the debate started
He told us the plan
While holding a pen tightly
Grasped in his hand
He thinks its his hammer
Like a judge in the court
He really gets into it
I think he needs psychiatric support
He'll call for "Order"
as he stomps his pen
Laughing to himself
Again and again
I once have been told
That he flipped in his chair
From laughing so hard
And he just couldn't bare
And I can't forget the look he gave me
As the old lady ran by
He looked confused
And mouthed to me "Why?"
Carne for short
He always say "Critters"
But when he hits his own butt
It gives us the jitters
Meaning all good
He keeps the Constitution in his pocket
Maybe he'll calm down
If he sticks some metal in a socket.
Sorry Carnesecca, no offense is meant. If by chance you ever happen to stumble upon this, I think you're a cool guy.
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posted by Katie @ 6:00 PM  |
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