The Ballad of Fitz
~composed one day eighth period while being bored to tears
by the Fitz-Steve mating dance
What a strange little man
Is that roly-poly Fitz—
Just when you think he might have brains,
He once again proves that he’s just a ditz
His supply of bad jokes
Are rarely PC,
And his short attention span
Makes us wonder if he has ADD
He’ll taunt and he’ll jest
To avoid starting class—
Do you ever have the urge
To knock him on his Irish ___?
We know he’s into sports,
And all the beer, good lord-
Is that all this guy can do
Whenever he gets bored?
Despite his charms he’s single,
And though you may not believe,
He’s found his soul mate in our very class—
In the person of a young man named Steve.
We all think that they form
An admirable pair—
One small, short and wiry,
One larger, and losing his hair.
From the back we watch
This male-dominated little zoo,
And if we wish someone would put us out of our misery,
Don’t blame us- so would you!
Because the over-powering chauvinism
Gets tiring, you see;
That’s why my most frustrating class
Is AP US History.
The Christmas Fitz: Close Encounters of the Santa Kind
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a Fitzpatrick was stirring—he was drunk on whiskey stout.
A six-pack of beer was hidden in the kitchen with care
In hopes that his friends wouldn’t find it there.
He had collapsed onto the sofa on the way to his bed,
As what would soon become a hangover danced in his head.
After all the whiskey—and two beers for a nightcap—
Fitz had settled himself down for a long winter’s nap
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Fitz opened bloodshot eyes to shout- “What the hell’s the matter?”
He rose from the couch at a pace a snail would scoff
To teach the stranger not to bother someone who’s been sleeping it off
He leaned out the window into the falling snow,
Middle finger all ready for the person below
When what to his red-rimmed eyes should appear
But two red sleighs and sixteen reindeer!
One half of the image seemed to flicker;
And then he remembered- “Oh, all the liquor!”
A noise from behind made him quickly spin ‘round
As down from the Chimney came St. Nick with a bound
He straightened his red suit as Fitz stood in awe,
The swept off all the soot with one burly paw.
Then came a sound that it pained Fitz to hear—
‘twas the sound of old Santa opening his beer.
He stood there sadly as the precious stuff was guzzled
And through it all couldn’t help but be puzzled
“Santa,” he asked as good St. Nick downed the last,
“I’m glad you’re here but why haven’t you come in the past?”
Santa let out a loud belch and replied,
“My boy, I’m not here for your sorry hide!
“Your mother always called you the little bad seed,
and I can’t remember the last time you did a good deed;
“You give too many quizzes and you’re rarely sober—
Why, you even laughed when you ran that dog over!
“If it were up to me I’d not spare you a glance,”
he continued as he hitched up his red pants,
“But apparently there’s some who don’t share my view,
out of those you teach, you might know who.
“This group of girls sent me a note
Which said, and here I quote:
“Dear Santa, this is something you need to hear—
We know you won’t be visiting Fitz this year
Because all year long he hasn’t been the best
And there’s hard multiple choice on his damn tests;
And he has strange habits and acts like a nut
And he had that pic of Harrison as a mutt!
And we know Michelle sent you that other little request
For a pile of reindeer droppings to wind up on his desk,
But we’re asking, just to show that we don’t resent,
For you to deliver to him our present.”
The handwriting was all done with flowery curls,
And it was signed at the bottom, “The Eighth Period Girls”
Thus Santa brought his little tale to an end
And pulled out the package they had asked him to send
He threw it to Fitz, who caught it with a grin,
Wondering what could possibly be within.
“Santa,” he asked, “ how can I repay—?”
But Santa cut him off—“ Just give those girls an A!”
He sprang to his sleigh and grabbed the whip
Before pulling out his flask for one last sip.
Then Santa shouted down as the sleigh flew out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to Fitz, and to all a good night!”
~Thought of but not composed in class this time