It's that time of year again

When things, all green…turn tan.

The smell of crayons, paper spent, chalk dust and sweaty scents

Turns foul, so foul, so foul I say…in a mire of school requests.

It's not so much the day or month, as school, oh yes, does start.

But looking in the foreground, it's getting mighty dark.

The list..THE LIST...is growing fast, it's topping one by one

By leaps and bounds, out of control, it's really not much fun!

There are crayons, pencils and paper too.

Let's not forget those binders…blue.

Gotta have the red and green

Lest the teacher bursts a spleen.

What about those paper clips?

A calculator, too. Did I even tell you, I want the kind that flips?

A compass and protractor to learn the icky math,

So I don't have to stand in line to feel the teacher's wrath.

I've gotta have two boxes of paper hankies too

The one's all soft with aloe; you feel it through and through.

Oh, and yes, grab up a roll of the pungent alcohol wipes

Coming in from play, I mustn't be a dirty sight.

The cart is leaning, "Look out!" I scream with four tires going flat

Watch me now as I plow through a maze of needed crap!

You can't maneuver anywhere, there's too much in the way.

"Stop here. I need this too!" You cringe as you hear them say.

By now, you're called *^&%^  (the one that rhymes with witch)

Just two more carts to fill the teacher's arm's length wish

Listen up, you silly twit, my kids…they number three

I bow my head, let out a prayer—it's a desperate "help me" plea.

Check out time is worse than any nightmare's fright

Cause in front of us, is a pitiful, weary sight.

Registers clicking at full pace those squiggled dollar signs

Faster than it can calculate, in my simple mind.

But wait! We aren't finished yet as I throw up a fist

Jeans and blouses mark the spot still on the waiting list.

And socks and panties, a little bra or two

"Oh no, it can't be white. Please, Mom, buy the blue."

"Oh, God, please help," I hear the mournful cries,

A silent vigil must be heard, it's called the Momma sigh.

One by one the panic looms, it surely doth spell doom

Knowing that the overdrafts are standing in this room.

Oh, gosh, go get another cart, better make it two

We can't get out of here without those brand new shoes!

I know I am forgetting things that I know I shouldn't

Cause I've bought more, you see, than I said I wouldn't.

I try to smile as we make our way out the swinging, double doors

Down the asphalt gimmies, known as a spending moor.

The merchants know we are at risk, it's a simple ploy

To extract from us the old green backs, that should bring us joy.

Oh, well, it's just another day in this good old, fast paced blow

A hundred years from now—who is going to know?

It won't be us on the spending sprees or doubled at our knees

It will be our grandkids screaming, "I thought education was for free!"

Heh, heh, heh, It's that time of year again

When things all green turn tan

The smell of crayons, paper spent, chalk board and sweaty scents

Turns foul when hard earned dollars turns quickly into cents.

Give me a sis-boom-bah

Rah, rah, rah!!!

It's just money

ha, ha, ha!!!