*To be sung to the tune of “That’s Amore“*
In Woody Creeeeeek where joy is king
When sun hits ground, the mood’s subliiiiiiiiime
When the wind whips around and your mind’s underground, that’s a-springtime.
When the pencils are lost and the cubbies look tossed, that’s a-springtime.
Phones will ring, ding-a-ling-a-ling, ding-a-ling-a-ling, and you’ll talk tooooooooooooo a parent.
Words will fly, right-on-right-on-by, right-on-right-on-by, but perhaps not transparent.
When the allergies drip through each class partnership, that’s a-springtiiiiiiime.
When small feet start to smell and each voice seems to yell, that’s a-springtime.
When you moooooooove through a haaaaaaaaze and you know that you’re countiiiiiiiiiiiiiing the daaaaaaayyyyyyyyssssss…
Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Woody Creek
A-springtime, that’s a-springtiiiiiiiiimmmmmme.