With apologies to English teachers and Johnny Cash
My professor mentioned today that she's trying to get our class a guest speaker; the speaker wrote a college grammar textbook. This didn't exactly thrill us, but when she mentioned that this author used to teach at Folsom Prison, we all got a little more interested. In fact, I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the class; I was too busy drafting new lyrics to Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" in my notebook.
With apologies to English teachers everywhere and especially Mr. Cash, I present:
Folsom Prison Grammar Blues
I hear that teacher
comin'; she's walkin' 'round the bend,
And how I wish these lessons would come to an end
I'm stuck at Folsom Prison and teacher keeps dronin' on.
So I'm takin' this class time to rewrite Cash's song
When I was just a
baby, my mama always said,
"Boy, you talk proper-like or I'll slap you up the head"
I claimed self-defense when I shot her, but the judge didn't bite
So when someone mentions grammar, I hang my head and cry
That teacher sure talks fancy, she don't use words like "ain't"
But to me this grammar lesson is like watchin' dryin' paint
Well I know I had it comin', I know I can't be free,
But she talkin' perfect progressives, and that tortures me
I still wouldn't talk all fancy, like a proper gentleman,
I'd go far from Folsom Prison, and that's where I'd stay
And to get back at that teacher, I'd use bad grammar all day
