I Gave My Teacher A Wormy Apple
     (or, Never Trust A Kid)

I gave my teacher a wormy apple
And into it she bit.
Her eyes lit up like rocket flares,
And then she started to spit.
Her wrath was wild and livid,
And our tiny ears all quivered,
But while she raged we plotted more
Destructive things to give her.

I stood with a regal splendor,
For I didn't think she'd mind,
Until she applied the severest force
To the bottom of my spine.
I remember my first grade teacher well.
We were more than she could take:
A scheming pack of crew cut felons
As pleasing as a toothache.

But I grew up and became a teacher
And one day a student smiled,
And handed me a lovely gift
Upon which a ribbon was piled.
"Don't open it yet," he said to me
"Cuz I wannit to be a surprise."
I studied it fondly but quickly noted
A sinister thought cross his eyes.

I'm no fool and I'm not blessed
With the kindness of a preacher.
So, naturally, I took the gift
And gave it to another teacher.
She took it home and opened it,
But I won't relate what it did.
Instead, I offer this word of caution:
Please, never trust a kid!