by Sarah J Beara
Thursday, November 07, 2002
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I don't hate it.
But I don't like it.
Mr.C's fiery baton, his angry teeth grit,
But a friend and I have learned,
That when his back is turned,
We can write notes.
I make sure we have paper,
She gets us each a pen,
And then when we've tought of something juicey, and only then,
We give it to our faithful friend,
Who's stuck in the middle,
Of two troublesome note passers.
We read the note, have a little giggle,
And when the time is right, we erturn the little paper,
filled with our own little squiggles,
And then when band is done,
That instead of playing musical notes passing them is much more fun !