It isn’t very cool to sit on a stool with a dunce cap in elementary school!
As a thing of ridicule, you feel like a fool, but everyone in class knows “That’s the rule!”
As you drool in your gruel and you contemplate school
You’re drowning in a pool or dying in a duel.
When you married that fool you met in high school
You thought he was cool, a masculine jewel,
Best diver in the school, who was free from ridicule.
He became a dull tool who loved to play pool.
Now you sit on your stool in the secretary pool.
You try to act cool and avoid ridicule,
But the boss is a mule, and he’s been to grad school
He knows every rule and how to be cruel.
But he’s never been cruel to the dizzy blond fool,
Whom you all ridicule in the keypunching pool.
She obeys every rule in her class at night school,
Yet she still isn’t cool nor a fine polished jewel.
Let’s cheer for the fools who follow the rules
Who don’t smoke Kools nor fall off bar stools.
We know they’re just tools or the spindles for spools.
Burning high-octane fuels ’til they die as old fools.
