Decimals and fractions are great attractions.
We're whizzes in arithmetic.
Add or divide them, come now and try them.
They're simple once you've learned the trick.
Schoolwork isn't hard for us. We spell "hippopotamus,"
And know geography quite well.
With our great store of knowledge, we could go to college.
We're 6th grade workers, can't you tell?

(I distinctly remember changing the last line to "But with our sins, we'll go to hell". I had an irreverent sense of humor even then).

(This is what I would have written, were I a better parody artist then)

Mischievous actions, myriad infractions
We broke our teacher's hick'ry stick
Rules? Can't abide 'em. Cigarettes? Hide 'em
We're playing hooky, call in sick
Truant officer caught us, wants to spank the lot of us
Or throw our asses in a cell
Our principal is no fool, sent us to reform school
We're sixth grade hoodlums, sure as hell.

(I sang this for my brother and he asked, naturally, "But what if it were about The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald? Of course, I had to answer that question.)


Ship full of iron ore, vanished into folklore
The Ed Fitzgerald's final trip
Waves o'er the railing, bulkheads are failing
The vessel is about to flip
Water from Superior, flooding our interior
Just fifteen miles from Whitefish Bay
We cannot eat our last meal, listen to the witch squeal
We'll never see the light of day