School Of Rock Musical The Faculty Quadrille
Here at Horace Green,
Our purpose is to glean good test results,
From pre-adults,
Making sure each child is,
Drilled, and ranked, and filed by score.
Hence one would expect,
Our garishly bedecked new substitute,
To follow suit,
Schneebly though comes in and,
Dicipline goes out the door.
Here at Horace Green,
There's stolen glances, playful whispers,
Giggling in the gym,
What it all can mean,
Is quite confounding, still one thing's clear,
It comes from HIM.
Have you seen that psychedelic van that he's got?
Left in the lot, parked in my spot,
With that naked lady painted right on the rear?
What about those sloppy looking outfits he's had?
Stripes mixed with plaid, all smelling bad!
Rather like bertulli, dirty sweat socks, and beer!
Don't forget his cocky, overconfident air!
Grease in his hair!
Stains everywhere!
And that awful lingo far too crude to discuss!
Plus the endless music coming right through his door,
Hard to ignore,
And further more,
Worst of all the children all like him more than US!
Here at Horace Green,
We groom achievers, keep them focused, minimize their quirks,
Schneebly hits the scene, they smile!
Laugh!
Beam!
Who knows what he does, but God, it works.
(Overlapping) Here at Horace Green, here at Horace Green, here at Horace Green!
Here at Horace Green, we have a system,
Which we keep to, as we're told we should,
Think what it would mean to do things his way,
Maybe we too would do some good!
Maybe we too would do some good.
