...I hit her in the bean with a rotten tangerine...
...and her teeth came marching oooooouuuuut.
Then I remember...MUCH later...
“Glory, glory what a heck of a time they had when they tried to make a WAC out of me.”
“...I hit her in the bean with a rotten tangerine...
...and her teeth came marching oooooouuuuut.”
When I was but a wee tot (mid-60’s), we used to sing,
“I shot her through the door
With a loaded .44
Now teacher don’t teach no more.”
My husband, who grew up during the same time period, sang of the rotten tangerine as the weapon of choice. Either that or the long-suffering teacher was hit on the butt with a rotten coconut. He was scandalized that, sweet little girl that I was, I sang about bringing a firearm to school.
Anxious to reclaim his illusions that females were the sex of a gentle variety, and that the olden days were a kinder time, he asked my Mom (born in 1935) how she completed the song. She told him, “I think we used the .44, too.”
Hubby grew up a lot that day.