Mrs. Peters,
Why don't you come to your senses,
And buy contact lenses,
So you can see your classroom...

Oh, you're an old one,
And I know that you are decayin,
But these games that you're playin,
With our grades are not cool.

Don't you try the King of Rodgers, boy,
He'll fail you if he's able,
You know that ol' bag Peters
Is always your best bet.
But it seems to me some papers,
Have been sitting on your table,
But you only grade Stacey's,
And flunk the rest....

Mrs. Peters,
No, you ain't gettin no younger,
You got too much hunger,
For Crane and Thoreau.
Oh, and what's that,
Oh, that's just Adam snorin,
Cuz your class is so borin,
That he can't make it through.

Don't your feet get cold in the summertime,
Cuz when you come out,
The sun don't shine,
It's hard to tell,
If you're breathin today...
You're ramblin on bout the status quo,
Ain't it funny how your students go...away

Mrs. Peters,
Why don't you come to your senses,
And buy contact lenses,
So your can see your classroom.
We may be sleepin,
But it ain't cuz we are sickly,
You better retire pretty quickly,
Retire pretty quickly,
You better retire pretty quickly,
It may be too late.