| Well, readin' and writin' and arithmetic
|
| Never did get through to me
|
| It ain’t because I’m square or thick
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| 'Cause I learned my A-B-C
|
| But when I graduated from the grammar school
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| And I moved one grade above
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| I began to be a snook at books
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| But I made straight A’s in love
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| Now the teacher would say
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| Learn your algebra
|
| But I’d bring home C’s and D’s
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| How could I make an A
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| When there’s a swingin' maid
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| On the left and on the right
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| And in the back and the front of me
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| All my grades are low
|
| On my card I know
|
| But they oughta give me one above
|
| If they’d give me a mark
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| For learnin' in the dark
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| I’d have straight A’s in love
|
| Now, in my senior year
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| With graduation near
|
| I did my homework every night
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| And when my mama said
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| I oughta go to bed
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| I’d turn out all the lights
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| But my sweetie pie
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| Was waitin' right outside
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| She’d be a cooin' like a dove
|
| Though I did my best
|
| I failed semester test
|
| But I made straight A’s in love
|
| Now the teacher would say
|
| Learn your algebra
|
| But I’d bring home C’s and D’s
|
| How could I make an A
|
| When there’s a swingin' maid
|
| On the left and on the right
|
| And in the back and the front of me
|
| All my grades are low
|
| On my card I know
|
| But they oughta give me one above
|
| If they’d give me a mark
|
| For learnin' in the dark
|
| I’d have straight A’s in love |