My Favorite Fibs
by Neal Levin
(sing to the tune of “My Favorite Things”)
Spot ate my homework; he thought it was chicken.
Aliens landed and gave me a lickin’.
Can’t raise my hand; I got poked in the ribs.
These are a few of my favorite fibs.
Can’t wear a backpack; it’s bad for my shoulders.
Can’t find my notebooks and can’t find my folders.
Can’t write in pen; I’m allergic to ink.
Can’t change for gym ’cause the uniforms stink.
When I’m flunking,
when I’m tardy,
when the due date’s passed,
I simply remember my favorite fibs,
and then I am free—at last!
I wasn’t running, just super-fast walking.
Got laryngitis; can’t do any talking.
Last weekend’s party was wrecked by my twin.
Can’t eat school lunch ’cause I want to stay thin.
Book-eating creatures broke into my locker.
Twisted my ankle; good riddance to soccer.
Don’t have a note ’cause my doctor was sick.
Sometimes I find an excuse that will stick.