| |
| Poor little mixed-up third graders |
| We're feeling sorry for us |
| We didn't get to go anywhere |
| Or even see the inside of a bus. |
| |
| The patrol boys attended a ball game |
| The little kids went to the zoo |
| Some went to museums and libraries |
| But us? What did we get to do? |
| |
| They gave the sixth grade a free luncheon |
| I hear it was really a ball |
| First grade entertained with a circus |
| But we just did nothing at all. |
| |
| Then I stopped and thought it over |
| And I guess I'll have to say |
| That I think we're pretty lucky |
| As we gather here today. |
| |
| We didn't have to practice |
| For a circus day after day |
| Or have night-mares over animals |
| In a zoo thirty-three miles away. |
| |
| We didn't mourn the Indian's loss |
| Or hear a farewell talk |
| We didn't get sick from a bus ride |
| Or blisters from a walk. |
| |
| And suddenly I realize |
| We're a happy-go-lucky bunch |
| To have such a wonderful teacher |
| Invite us to join her for lunch. |
