The last playground ditty: "On top of spaghetti"

Interestingly, the last playground rhyme I can remember is probably the most violent one. And it's always the teachers and principals who get the harshest treatment. I can't say I'm proud we sang these songs, but that's life; we did. And of all the people I went to school with, I don't recall any of them committing an act of violence (except the occasional knuckle-head fight in a bar or in the alley). Like I said earlier, I think these songs now would be cause for suspension or even expulsion. Back then, the songs were sick fantasies. Today, they could well be scripts or dress-rehearsals. . .

[to the tune of "On Top Of Old Smokey"]

On top of spaghetti, all covered in blood,
I shot my poor teacher with a 40 foot stud.

I shot her with glory, i shot her with pride,
I couldn't have missed her she was 40 feet wide.

I went to her funeral, I went to her grave,
Some people threw flowers, I threw a grenade.

I opened her coffin--she wasn't quite dead,
So I took a bazooka and blew off her head!
---o0o---

Playground rhymes from my youth: Popeye the sailor man

I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man
I live in a Garbage Can.
I eat all the worms
And I spit out the Germs
I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man.

I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man
I live in a frying pan
I turn up the heat
And I burn up my feet

I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man
I live in a frying pan
I turn up the gas
And burn off my ass
I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man

I'm Popeye, the Sailor Man
I like me spinach and eggs
I like to go swimmin'
With bow-legged women
And swim between their legs!
---o0o---

Short playground rhymes from my youth in the early 1960's

Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it.
Picking their nose and chewing it, chewing it, chewing it.
______________________

Jingle bells,
Batman smells,
Robin laid an egg.
The Batmobile lost a wheel
And Joker took ballet.
______________________

Engine Engine Number Nine
Going down Chicago line
If the train falls off the track
Do you want your money back?
______________________

Whistle while you work.
Hitler is a jerk.
Mussolini bit his weenie.
Now it doesn't work.
______________________

Whistle while you work
Hitler is a jerk
Rosellini bit his weenie
And now it will not squirt.

[Albert Rosellini is now 98 years old, and at least a couple of years ago was still practicing law in Seattle! He was governor of Washington State in my formative years from, 1957-1965.]
______________________

Tra la la boom de-ay
There was no school today.
Our teacher passed away,
She died of tooth decay!
Tra-la-la Boom de ay!
I took your pants away...
______________________
Tra-la-la Boom de ay!
Baffaro passed away
We threw him in the bay
And watched him float away.

[Peter Baffaro was the longtime principal of Kent Elementary, Kent, Washington]
______________________

Liar,Liar!
Pants are on fire!
[Reply]
I don't care,
I don't care!
I can buy another pair!
______________________

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream
Throw the teacher overboard and listen to her scream!
______________________

School's out, school's out,
The teacher let the monkeys out.
One went in, and one went out,
And one fell in the sauerkraut.

[At around the time I heard, and sang this ditty, Kent, Wash. was one of the largest sauerkraut producing regions in the country. I remember taking several tours of the Libby Sauerkraut plant. And they weren't alone...there were others. Not many Germans or Eastern Europens lived in Kent, so I have to assume it was because Kent was a prime cabbage-growing area.]
______________________

It's Howdy Doody time
It ain't worth a dime
We'll turn to Channel Nine
And watch Frankenstein
______________________

Lincoln, Lincoln, I've been thinking,
What the hell have you been drinking?
Taste like beer smells like wine.
Oh my God it's Turpentine.
______________________
---o0o---

Post-Columbine/Virginia Tech - 1960's playground rhymes from Kent, Wash. - Mine eyes have seen the glory

I suppose, in a post-Columbine/Virginia Tech. world, our song would, in all likelihood, get you expelled. We sang this at Kent Elementary in the early 1960's.



Mine eyes have seen the glory
Of the burning of the school
We have tortured all the teachers,
We have broken every rule
We have barbecued the principal,
And destroyed the PTA,
Our school keeps burning on.
Glory, glory hallelujah.
Teacher hit me with a ruler.
I met her at the door with a loaded .44
Now she won't be teaching anymore!
---o0o---