Insomnia by Kathy Kenney-Marshall

I cannot get to sleep tonight.
I toss and turn and flop.
I try to count some fluffy sheep
while o’er a fence they hop.
I try to think of pleasant dreams
of places really cool.
I don’t know why I cannot sleep—
I slept just fine at school.

I Saw You by Anonymous

I saw you in the ocean,
I saw you in the sea,
I saw you in the bathtub.
Oops! Pardon me.

How to Delay Your Bedtime by Bruce Lansky

Refuse to turn off the TV.
Say, "All my friends watch this show."

Shout, "No fair!" when you're told to go to bed.
Then ask, "Why can't I stay up till' ten
like all my friends?"

When Dad says, "If all your friends
jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge,
would you jump, too?"
sneer, "Yes!"

Whine, "I'm too tired to walk upstairs to bed."
Make Dad carry you up the stairs.

Pout, "I'm too tired to brush my teeth."
Wait till' Dad squeezes the toothpaste
onto your brush and starts brushing
your teeth for you.
Then groan, "Ouch, you're hurting me."

When Mom comes in to say good night
and asks you to pick up your clothes,
yawn, "I'm too tired to pick up my clothes."
Watch while Mom picks them up for you.

Beg, "I need a bedtime story."
When Mom finishes the story,
ask, "And then what happened?"

Tell her, "That story got me excited.
Now I need a backrub to make me sleepy."
When Mom starts rubbing, give directions:
"Rub a little higher.
No, a little to the left.
No, more to the middle."
When Mom stops rubbing,
grumble, "I was just starting to feel sleepy—
don't stop now."

When Mom says, "For the last time, good night!"
whine, "I'm thirsty.
Can I have a glass of water?"
When Mom asks you to promise
you won't wet the bed,
say, "I promise"—but cross your fingers.

Start crying.
When Dad comes to comfort you,
sob, "There's a monster under my bed."
When he turns on the lights,
you'll see it's only your shoes, socks, crayons,
and the toy gun you got last Christmas,
but only played with once because you lost it.
Tell him, "Leave the door open
so I can see the hall light!"
When he opens the door,
plead, "Open it wider!"

When Dad leaves,
get the toy from under your bed
and play with it in the light
shining through your doorway.

How I Dress for Bed by Bruce Lansky

When winter breezes chill the air,
I sleep in my long underwear.
And if there isn’t any heat,
I keep my stockings on my feet.
I climb into my freezing bed
with fuzzy earmuffs on my head.
The reason it’s so cold inside:
Mom opens all the windows wide.

It Can't Be Time to Take a Bath by A. Maria Plover

It can't be time to take a bath.
I took one just last week.
I'm sure the spots you think are grime
are freckles on my cheek.

I'm just as clean as clean can be.
You won't find any dirt.
I rubbed my mouth clean with my hands,
then wiped them on my shirt.

My feet were muddy yesterday,
but that's not longer true.
I walked home barefoot in the rain,
so now they're spotless, too.

There was some gunk behind my ears—
a funny shade of gray.
Don't worry, though, 'cause it's all gone.
The cat licked it away.

And so you see, there is no need
to point me toward the tub.
It's just a waste of water.
I've got nothing left to scrub!

Don’t Suck Your Thumb by Bruce Lansky

“Don’t suck your thumb,”
my mother said.
I answered, “Why?”
and scratched my head.
She said, “It’s dumb!
Now go to bed.”
That night I sucked
my toe instead.

Diddle, Diddle Dumpling by Mark Benthall

Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his blue jeans on.
The poor little guy is out of luck.
He’s still in his pants ’cause his zipper’s stuck!

A Cowboy’s Lullaby by Eric Ode

The wolf on the hill as he cries to the moon,
the cricket who chirps with a sweet, simple tune,
the snap of the campfire that’s keeping me warm,
the thunder and roll of a far-distant storm.

The whispering wind as it rustles the trees,
the babbling stream as it runs to the seas,
the hoot of the owl and the croak of the frog,
the soft, steady snore of my old faithful dog.

When darkness has come and the stars are in sight,
I love all the sounds that I hear in the night.
I love every crackle, each rattle and peep—
but not all at once when I’m trying to sleep!

Lovesick by Bruce Lansky

I wrote a love note to Sarah.
She bought some chocolates for Matt.
He sent six roses to Lisa.
She baked pink cookies for Pat.

He called Samantha “my darling.”
She told me, “I love you dear.”
Valentine’s Day drives me crazy.
I’m glad it comes just once a year.

I think you’re cute.
I really do.
I like your face
and figure, too.

I like your eyes.
I like your nose.
Don’t change a thing—
except your clothes.

My Girlfriend by Kenn Nesbitt

I now have a girlfriend, though I don’t like girls.
I haven’t much money, but I buy her pearls.
I’m always embarrassed, but I give her flowers
and talk on the phone every evening for hours.
We go to the movies, and she gets to pick.
She likes holding hands, though it makes me feel sick.
She likes when I smell good, so I take a bath.
I do what she asks me, and she does my math.

Oh My Darling, Valentine by Kenn Nesbitt

(Sing to the tune of “Clementine”)

In a toy store
on a Sunday
with a dollar forty-nine,
I need something,
just a dumb thing,
for my brand-new
valentine.

Oh my darling,
oh my darling,
oh my darling,
valentine.
I’m uneasy,
kind of queasy,
but you’re still my
valentine.

Yes, it happened
in the classroom
when you said,
“Will you be mine?”
I was muddled
and befuddled,
so I answered,
“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Then you called me
in the lunchroom.
You had saved a
place in line.
And I knew that
it was true that
I was now your
valentine.

I went shopping
for a present,
and I saw this
blinking sign:
“Here’s a pleasant
little present
for a brand-new
valentine.”

So I bought it,
and I brought it
in my backpack
right at nine.
Do you like it?
It’s a spy kit
with a flashlight
you can shine.

I could tell you
didn’t like it
when you said I
was a swine.
How exciting!
I’m delighting.
I have no more
valentine.

Till another
person stopped me,
and she asked,
“Will you be mine?”
This is crushing!
Oh, I’m blushing.
I’ve another
valentine.

Kiss Me Not by Bruce Lansky

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Please don’t kiss me.
I’ve got the flu.

I Love You! by Anonymous

I love you, I love you,
I love you, I do.
But don’t get excited,
I love monkeys, too!

Georgie Porgie, Handsome Guy by Bruce Lansky

Georgie Porgie, handsome guy,
Won’t kiss the girls, and so they cry.
It breaks their hearts—he loves another.
He’s only five; he loves his mother.

Angelica the Beautiful by Bruce Lansky

(Sing to the tune of “America the Beautiful”)

Angelica’s so beautiful,
her teeth are pearly white.
And when she smiles, I turn to mush.
She’s such a stunning sight.

It’s true I have a crush on her,
of that there is no doubt.
That’s why I tease her every day—
so no one will find out.

One day when we walked home from school,
she slipped her hand in mine.
I thought that she was sending me
a clear romantic sign.

I smiled and gave her cheek a kiss
to prove my love was true.
That’s when she gave my face a slap,
so now it’s black-and-blue.

Parent-Teacher Conference by Darren Sardelli

At the parent-teacher conference,
my father made a scene.
He scared my fifth-grade teacher,
with his mask from Halloween.

She showed him all my science grades
and said she was concerned,
but he just stuck his tongue out
when my teacher’s back was turned.

He drew a monster on the board
and claimed it was her twin.
He even shook her soda,
which expolded on her chin.

My angry teacher crossed her arms
and said, “This meeting’s done!
I now see where he gets it from—
you act just like your son!”

The Teachers Jumped Out of the Windows by Kenn Nesbitt

(Sing to the tune of "My Bonnie")

The teachers jumped out of the windows.
The principal ran for the door.
The nurse and librarian bolted.
They’re not coming back anymore.

The counselor, hollering madly,
escaped out the door of the gym.
The coach and custodian shouted
and ran out the door after him.

Chorus
Oh my! Goodbye!
They’re not coming back anymore, no more.
How fun! They’ve run!
They’re not coming back anymore.

The lunch ladies threw up their ladles,
then fled from the kitchen in haste,
and all of the students looked puzzled
as staff members scurried and raced.

We’d never seen anything like it.
But still, it was pretty darned cool
to see all the staff so excited
to leave on the last day of school

It's Finally Friday by Paul Orshoski

It’s finally Friday—I’m so glad.
It’s been a crazy week.
I got chewed out on Monday,
and since then it’s all been bleak.

I lost my lunch on Tuesday,
and a parent went insane,
which shocked me so completely
that I almost popped a vein.

I poked my eye on Wednesday,
and the nurse gave me a shot.
She sent me to the doctor
when I fainted on the spot.

On Thursday I was tardy
’cause I kinda overslept.
And the snack that I was craving
came up missing in a theft.

And so it’s finally Friday.
No more pencils, no more books.
No more sitting in detention,
no more teachers’ dirty looks.

By Friday I’m exhausted,
out of energy and breath.
But that’s the day you’ll hear me shout,
“Rejoice, TGIF!”

And twice a month on Friday,
I remember why I stay:
You see, I am the principal—
that’s when I get my pay.

I’m Staying Home from School Today by Kenn Nesbitt

I’m staying home from school today.
I’d rather be in bed,
pretending that I have a pain
that’s pounding in my head.

I’ll say I have a stomachache.
I’ll claim I’ve got the flu.
I’ll shiver like I’m cold
and hold my breath until I’m blue.

I’ll fake a cough. I’ll fake a sneeze.
I’ll say my throat is sore.
If necessary, I can throw
a tantrum on the floor.

I’m sure I’ll get away with it.
Of that, there’s little doubt.
But even so, I really hope
my students don’t find out.

How to Torture Your Students by Jane Pomazal and Bruce Lansky

Start each day with a surprise quiz.
Don’t dismiss the class for recess
until you’ve finished the lesson
you’re working on.
At the end of the day, hand out a huge
assignment that’s due the next day.

When a student says, "I have to go to
the bathroom," say, "You should have
gone this morning before you left
home" or "You’ll have to hold it in;
it’s time for the kindergarten to use
the bathrooms."

Never call on students who have
their hands up.
Only call on students who have
no idea what’s going on.

When a student asks you a question,
say, "Look up the answer in a book."
Don’t bother to mention the name
of the book in which the answer
can be found.

When you read, go as fast as you can.
Skip a line or two, then ask questions
about the passage to see if the
students were listening.

When it’s time for the students to
read, call on someone who doesn’t
have a book.

When you hand out pencils, make sure
they’re dull and don’t have erasers.
When you hand out books, make
sure they’re torn and tattered.
When preparing the students for
a test, write all the information
they’ll need to know on the board.
Then stand in front of the board so
they can’t see what you’ve written.
As soon as you’ve finished discussing
the test information, turn quickly and
erase the board.

On the last day of school, hand
out a surprise final exam.
Tell your students if they flunk it, they’ll
have to attend summer school—and
if they flunk summer school, they’ll
have to repeat the grade.
Tell them you hope they all flunk
because you like them so much and
you wish they could be your students
again next year.

Get Out of Bed! by Diane Z. Shore

Get out of bed, you silly fool!
Get up right now, it’s time for school.
If you don’t dress without a fuss,
I’ll throw you naked on the bus!"

"Oh, Mom, don’t make me go today.
I’m feeling worse than yesterday.
You don’t know what I’m going through.
I’ve got a strange, rare case of flu.

"My body aches, my throat is sore.
I’m sure I’m knocking on death’s door.
You can’t send me to school—achoo!—
’Cause everyone could get it, too.

"Besides, the kids despise me there.
They always tease and always stare.
And all the teachers know my name.
When something’s wrong, it’s me they blame."

"You faked a headache yesterday.
Don’t pull that stuff on me today.
Stop acting like a silly fool—
The principal cannot skip school!"

Falling Asleep in Class by Kenn Nesbitt

I fell asleep in class today,
as I was awfully bored.
I laid my head upon my desk
and closed my eyes and snored.

I woke to find a piece of paper
sticking to my face.
I’d slobbered on my textbooks,
and my hair was a disgrace.

My clothes were badly rumpled,
and my eyes were glazed and red.
My binder left a three-ring
indentation in my head.

I slept through class, and probably
I would have slept some more,
except my students woke me
as they headed out the door.

Bed Head by Kenn Nesbitt

I can’t do a thing with my hairdo.
I’ve tried, but it’s simply no use.
I can’t make it stay where I put it today
with styling gel, hair spray, or mousse.

No bobby pin, brush, or bandanna
can get my hair under control.
I’ve tried every comb, every clip in my home
and covered my head with a bowl.

I’ve tried using forks in frustration.
I’ve tried using pokers and picks.
I’ve tried using straps; I’ve tried headbands and caps.
I’ve even tried shoestrings and sticks.

Regardless of how I attack it,
I simply cannot make it stay.
I guess I can’t win, so I’ll have to give in
and look like my students today.

Aliens Have Landed! by Kenn Nesbitt

The aliens have landed!
It’s distressing, but they’re here.
They piloted their flying saucer
through our atmosphere.
They landed like a meteor
engulfed in smoke and flame.
Then out they climbed immersed in slime
and burbled as they came.

Their hands are greasy tentacles.
Their heads are weird machines.
Their bodies look like cauliflower
and smell like dead sardines.
Their blood is liquid helium.
Their eyes are made of granite.
Their breath exudes the stench of foods
from some unearthly planet.

And if you want to see these
sickly, unattractive creatures,
you’ll find them working in your school;
they all got jobs as teachers.

Itches by Kenn Nesbitt

I’m covered in calamine lotion
from forehead on down to my feeters
to stop me from scratching the itches
of hundreds of bites from mosqueeters.

My arms and my legs are so itchy,
they feel like they’re starting to smoke.
I guess that I got that from playing
in patches of red poison oak.

As if it could not be more painful,
my stomach is rashy and hivey,
my back and my sides are all blotchy
from wandering through poison ivy.

Despite that I’m itching like crazy,
I hardly can wait until when
my itches and rashes are better,
so I can go camping again.

Garage Sale by Linda Knaus

Most every summer Mom works hard,
beginning right at dawn,
by putting things she doesn’t want
for sale out on the lawn.

Those bargain prices drive folks nuts.
This year they went too far.
One lady bought our front porch steps.
Another bought our car.

And then it got ridiculous,
so that’s when I got mad.
“Hey, lady! Some things aren’t for sale—
now please put down my dad!”

Dirty Socks by Bruce Lansky

When I went on a camping trip
my father yelled, “PU!
Your socks smell worse than rotten eggs
and worse than doggy poo.”

“You’d better take them off,” he said,
“and wash them in the lake.”
It wasn’t long before I knew
he’d made a big mistake.

The water changed from clear to mud.
Then fumes began to rise.
And soon a cloud of air pollution
covered up the skies.

When bullfrogs started croaking
and ducks began to quack,
some campers started chanting,
“We want our clean lake back!”

I’ve got a couple of dirty socks.
I’m in an awful bind.
I guess I’ll have to bury them.
I hope the worms don’t mind.

Deep-Sea Squeeze by Eric Ode

I’m wrapped from top to bottom
in an octopus embrace
with seven arms around my waist
and one across my face.

It all began this morning
with a scuba diving trip.
I found the creature wedged beneath
a sunken pirate ship.

So, carefully, I dug him free.
He offered no objection
but covered me in tentacles
with octopus affection.

It seems I’ve made a friend today,
but this I’d like to know:
How do you say, in octopus,
“You’re welcome. Please let go”?

Cannonball by Dave Crawley

The lifeguard won’t let me go back in the pool.
He tells me I’ve broken his number one rule.
He didn’t approve of my summertime smash—
The Sultan of Soakers, the cannonball splash.

The cannonball calls for an uncommon flair;
with legs tucked beneath me, I soared through the air.
With a splash that would make me the talk of the school,
I think that I just about emptied the pool.

I splashed Mr. Meese and his silly new hat.
I splashed Mrs. Simpkins, who called me a brat.
I splashed Suzy Smith from her head to her feet
and even the lifeguard, whose whistle went [I]tweet![I]

So now here I sit in the heat of the day.
No running. No splashing. And no way to play.
My friends are all swimming and staying real cool,
but the lifeguard won’t let me go back in the pool.

Abusement Park by Kenn Nesbitt

We went to an amusement park,
my family and I.
We rode on rides so scary,
I expected I would die.

We rode a roller coaster
called The Homicidal Comet.
It had so many loop-de-loops
it nearly made us vomit.
We rode The Crazed Tornado,
and it jerked us hard and quick.
If it were any longer,
we would certainly be sick.

We rode The Psycho Octopus,
which packed a nasty punch.
I think we’re pretty lucky
that we didn’t lose our lunch.

Lovely Teacher by Linda Knaus

(sing to the tune of “Clementine”)

Lovely teacher, lovely teacher—
eyes of periwinkle blue.
You are such a pretty creature,
and I’m so in love with you.

How I long for your attention,
so I’m acting like a fool.
Put me down for some detention,
just don’t send me home from school.

Oh, I’m filled with pain and sorrow,
for my teacher is so cute,
but she won’t be here tomorrow,
’cause she’s just a substitute.

Sher By Me..!!

Mana k tere ded k qabil nae hun main
tirchi nazar se dekh magar dekh tu zaroor.