Little leaf tornadoes stood up in the schoolyard
The kids going in to the 5th grade knew enough to be a little scared
It was battle-ax Miss Tierney, or crazy old Miss Hill
The second meanest teacher in the West End School
"I had a fourth grade," she'd tell us, "they'd run rings around you kids,
You can't pull the wool over my eyes, I'm wise to all your tricks,"
She'd turn back to the blackboard, scratching out full throttle
While the flesh hung from her writing arm and flapped like a turkey's wattle
There was a new kid introduced to class who couldn't take her teasin'
One morning he burst into tears with very little reason
"Oh, crocodile tears," she crowed, "somebody bring him a bucket,"
And one boy did while that poor kid turned purple as a turnip
Silent in the laughter that rained down on the fool
Sat the smallest, shyest 5th grader in all the West End School
It was nothing new for old Miss Hill to make somebody crawl
Now she turned her class turns on the classmate who had no friends at all
I found one pal at recess, who said he would go too
To tell our lady principal what that kid had been put through
There's a first time for everything, and so it came to pass
that Miss Hill said "I'm sorry," in front of our whole class
The new kid moved away again, I don't think we ever spoke
I hope he knows not all of us were laughing at the joke
He's the reason one shy 5th grader ran rings around Miss Hill
The second meanest teacher at the West End School