I wrote this poem on Matt Ison's birthday while thinking of an excuse to get out of my class so I could go to quaker steak and lube with everyone. So I wrote this poem about the excuse i thought would suit best.
Good Excuse
I feel my tum tum rumbling and roaring
Gas-X into my mout I start pouring
My teachers saying words which just arent grouping
Time is going too slow, I should be pooping
Prune juice was a bad choice, swishing swooshing
when i finally get there, no need for pushing
Hopefully I'll make it to eight o-clock
Come on time go faster tic-toc tic-toc
These sweat pants could get nasty, diarrhea
Everyone will turn Italian, "Momma Mia"
Teacher please shut up now, just stop speaking
nevermind keep talking, my bum bums leaking
The smell is now dispersing, sniffing noses
Wont take long to realize those arent roses
Fingers start to point now, was it you
Teacher can I go now? Yes! Thank you.
Turns out I just left when he was writing on the board... Easier and less shattering of ego |