Bejeezums

John Emerson, ‘27

Frederick Busterban

A mean ol’ bully

Steals nickels from Dan

Does whatever he can

To upset me

With hair of black

He’s a mean ol’ bully

Who likes to attack

Using whatever he can to whack

The living bejeezums out of me

My living bejeezums

Do not like the mean ol’ bully

Who uses my head as drums

Who calls people dumbs

Just to upset me

To upset me

The mean ol’ bully

Steals my pink house key

Throwing it into the sea

Enough I say

I say enough

It’s time to get tough

So I sneak through the brush

After having hugged the bully’s crush

And steal his bicycle

It’s an ugly thing

All clean and pretty

Unlike himself

Whom I now do pity

For I have his bike

Alas, I am found

The chase is on

And He, is on

His little brother’s tricycle

We race up hills 

We drive into valleys

We conquer rivers

We devour roads

The tricycle squeals

My new bike cheers

Frederick Busterban

Beaten by I, Stan

In a race of champions

His tricycle is not enough

But his bike sure is

Too bad it belongs to me

He never should have stolen my pink house key