Schoolin’ in this dark and musty room,
suffused, this environment with gloom.
On my laptop’s screen appear lots of letters;
it’s so cold in here that I need a sweater.
This ain’t a place I want to be, but I am
schoolin’ with an equally bored crew.
Rulin’ this roost is a tyrant dude.

He tells us there’ll be no frivolity;
every moment he will nix jollity.
If he gets too unhappy, we’ll be beat;
a ruler makes the knuckles black and blue…
has the same effect on the butt too.
Ow, ow, ow, ow!

He bangs our butts, and then he makes us pray;
we’re captive in this room, and we’re his prey.
Into the closet he takes Joe away.
“Ministers” cleric’lly…must very wary.

Scoopin’ him up, takin’ him from room,
beatin’ him an inch away from doom:
Pow! pow!! pow!!! pow!!!!

Droolin’, post-prelate-punch