It makes your mouth turn greeeeen.
Comet!
It tastes like Listeriiiiiiine.
Comet, it makes you vomit;
So eat some Comet and vomit todaaaaaaaaay.
Whew. I’m not the only one who knows that song. 
(Ardred is convinced that was a school specific thing, because he’d never heard it).
BEEEEEEEE kind to your fine feathered frieeeeeeeeeeeeeends
A duck may be somebody’s moooooooooooother.
Oh, the maaaan in the mooooon is a laaaad-eeeeee,
A ladeeeee in lipstick and curls!..
(Am I really the only one who knows that? Anyone? cricket chirp)
Be kiiiiiiind to your friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiends in the swaaaaaaaaaaaamp…
The worms crawl in
the worms crawl out…
You really need to check out the book Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts:The subversive folklore of childhood, authored by Josepha Sherman and T.K.F. Weisskopf.
It catalogs, and traces the origins of all those ditties that get passed down on the playground. Folks were asked to contribute the words to the “songs” they’d learned, and it’s fascinating to note the differences based on time and location.
Remember “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School”? At least a dozen versions.
Or the gopher guts song of the title.
What about “Nobody Like Me, Everybody Hates Me(I’ll go eat some worms)”?
A lot of the stuff I learned on the playground and sang with relish would probably get me detention in this PC age.
Tra-la-la-boom-di-ay
We have no school today
Our teacher passed away
We shot him yesterday.
We threw him in the bay
He scare the sharks away
Tra-la-la-boom-di-ay
We have no school today
The worms play pinochle on your snout.
Their stomachs turn a limey green
Your eyes pop out like whipping cream.
You put them on a slice of bread
And that’s what you eat when you are dead.
Bart Simpson singing to Lisa:
Lisa, her teeth are big and green.
Lisa, she smells like gasoline.
Lisa, da da da Disa.
She is my sister, her birthday, I missed-a.
So, this isn’t about the reindeer, then?
We always sang that Comet tasted like gasoline. I guess we were worried about trademark infringement.
Not really a kiddie song, seeing as how it comes from ‘Mame’ and all.
But anyway, did you hear that Miss Suzy had a steamboat?
The steamboat had a bell.
On top of old Smokey
All covered in sand,
I shot my poor teacher
With a red rubber band!
I shot her with pleasure,
I shot her with pride,
I couldn’t have missed her,
She’s forty feet wide!
Feh. Everyone knows Old Smokey is covered with cheese.
And for that matter, my eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school,
We have tortured all the teachers, we have hung the principal.
We are marching down the halls, we are busting down the walls.
Us brats are marching on!
Glory, glory, halleluia!
Teacher hit me with a ruler
Men were at the door with a loaded .44
And there ain’t no teacher no more!
Like I said in the other post, there are regional versions, or changed by time, or whatever.
Otto, I remember the song like this.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured every teacher, we have broken every rule
We even killed the principal but he didn’t care
Because he had no hair!
Glory, glory hallelujah!
Teacher hit me with a ruler
Bopped her on the bean with a rotten tangerine
And she ain’t the teacher no more!
I’ve spent several hours (not constantly) trying to remember this one:
We are brave, we are bold,
for the liquor we can hold,
in the cellars of St. Something School!
Never knew all the words to it…it has another part that goes:
What is the cheer we like to hear?
“More beer!”
Can’t think of the name of the original song (pretty sure it’s a military ditty), but I’m sure someone will stop by and provide that important info.
The sort of appalling thing is that St. Something only went up to 8th grade. I graduated from it in 1972. And I think I remember people singing it as early as 6th grade. Maybe even earlier. Certainly didn’t mean a lot to me, though.
Oh…and in our version of the Comet song, it made your teeth turn green and tasted like gasoline.
GT
Brush your teeth with Santi-Flush!
Brush your teeth with Santi-Flush!
No More Teeth, No More Brush
Yeah Haw! Santi-Flush!
As girls as young as seven or eight, we used to sing a version of this on the schoolbus… only… only now that I remember it, I am just a little stunned. I know I didn’t have a clue what I was really talking about back then, just a vague idea that it was something really naughty:
Tra-la-la-boom-di-ay
I met a boy today
He gave me fifty cents
To go behind the fence
He pushed me to the ground
He pulled my panties down
My mother was surprised
To see my tummy rise
My daddy jumped for joy
It was a baby boy!
I mean, holy cow! :eek:
I think we mostly turned out okay. Though my graduating class had the highest rate of teenage prenancies in the province for the year. But then, the school held that dubious title for years. :smack:
I blame that song!
Ewww!
You went down on Comet!
I’d hate to know what you did to Donner and Blitzem.
We had a substitute
That we were going to shoot
But then she ran away
Tra-la-la-boom-di-ay!
Oh Og, I’m flashing back now - it was the cafeteria food that caused these flashbacks, I’m sure!
Anybody else have the straight-up blasphemous version of that tune?
*Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He descended from the heavens with a giant flaming sword
He slaughtered all the heathens until he got kind of bored,
and then he just went home.
Glory, glory, God’ll do ya
Glory, glory, God’ll do ya
Glory, glory, God’ll do ya
If you think for yourself.*
Susie pulled the wrong chord
And blew us all to
Hello operator, get me number nine
And if you do not want to, I’ll kick your
Behind the refrigerator, there was a piece of glass
Susie sat upon it, and cut her little
Ask me no more questions
I’ll tell you no more lies
that’s all I can remember