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On April the eighth, two thousand and five
Ed Bolles was accused of a crime
His poem was a threat, Prof Ritter had claimed
(To rub his nose into the slime)

The PC she taught had gone overboard,
He’d thought, as he penned his light verse
But as he was kicked out of class for two weeks
He realized the old witch was worse

Mr. Bolles was well known for his tiffs with the prof
And well known as conserv’tive at heart,
But while intelligent ‘nuff to recognize slough,
He’d missed that whole liberal part

For liberals may ‘toil’ at a college and claim
That they do the good work of a teacher
But as we all know, that isn’t the truth
A liberal is more of a preacher

Instead of spreading the good word of God
A liberal will sell you on Marx
Any student who has a lick of good sense
Avoids them and simply embarks

But Bolles was not savvy, or else, even worse
The class was required, he was stuck
He couldn’t get out, all he could do was just shout
At the liberal lies and the muck

However, a liberal yells best of all
For yelling is simply hot air
To yell requires little of logic, or sense
And so liberals you should beware.

Notwithstanding this fact, Bolles got into scrapes
And with liberal Ritter held fast
That she had now a claim filed against him, he thought
Was not karma biting his ass

But now you should know—tell the rest of the world
That if you encounter prof Reds
You’re wasting your time trying to argue with them
You’ll only end up butting heads

Drop out of that class; don’t bother with that
A class with a Red is a waste
Go to some other school, like Hillsdale, you fool,
A college with professorial taste!

If you go to a school like SoConnState
And expect you’ll be getting much smarter
I got news for you, boy, you’ll be singing the blues
If you write of a professor’s daughter.

So learn from the story of poor Mr. Bolles
And don't blow a wad on State U
Send your children instead, to a school that ain't Red
And your kid won't be crying boo hoo.