It ain' the ringing of the bell
which calls me back to skule once more;
it ain't that i must lurn to spell
that makes my hart so orful soar:
it ain't that fracktions i must lurn
nor jografy that makes me blew,
it "s just becoz today i yurn
to do the things i didn't doo.
ring out, wild bell! ime on mi way
to skule again, and summer's done
it dussent seem more than a day
since i began to have mi fun.
i wouldn't mind this cuming back,
it ain't the skule ime kicking on,
it's just becoz i missed a stack
of fun, and now the summer's gone.
i planned to bild a coogie in
our yard, where all the kids could meat;
the roof was going to be of tin,
and we 'd have carpet for our feet;
and i was going to organize
a brave and daring pirut crew
and we 'd take rich men bi surprize
but gee! how fast the summer's flue.
and that's the skule bell ringing now,
vacashun's slipped away from me;
what i acomplisshed anyhow
is something more than i can see;
i've had some fun, of course, but then,
it really seams to beet the dutch
how very little i did when
i planned to do so very much.
Ah, little boy, you do not know
The lesson that you teach us all;
You with unwilling feet now go
To school at the approach of Fall.
We grown-ups soon will hear a bell,
Announcing that our course is run,
Far more than death we fear to tell
The good deeds that we might have done.
