"Reasons the ETHS Band is Holy"
Aniah/Jessica Katz
AniaHope@aol.com
* * *
A lowly freshman seeks to pay tribute to the WKMB of 01-02
* * *
Verse one:
Our uniforms are orange,
Our uniforms are blue,
The weather outside,
Is too hot for you.
Chorus:
Pizza is hot and lemonade sugared,
The Wildkit band isn't phased
We go marching in
The drumline reverb rings
sound of triangle
Plays will be made
And football will be played
The Wildkit band isn't phased
( hey hey hey!)
We are singing to ya,
Lordy we don't fool ya,
Let the game begin.
* * *
The mallot wielders strain
And the residents are in pain
We march the perimeter
Sarah's up front
And cadences (holy!) behind
Ellen's in virtual control of things
Last game's in the rain
And seniors think it's a pain
To be lugging instruments in garbage bags
The saxes led by Maggie
Know exactly where to be
And trumpets fall apart by the trees
Clarinets cant be heard
The podium is spurned
And hats everywhere are stolen
The sousaphones are heavy
The flute song is piping
And percussion is at it full swing
Songs will be marched
Blocks will be formed
And the Wildkit flag will be ran
While the football players are loosing
We are refusing
To stop our loud and obnoxious cheering
* * *
Disclaimers: I do not own anything or anyone that doesn't rightfully belong to me. If there's any other legal mumbo jumbo I'm supposed to write, well, this is where it'd go.
Aniah/Jessica Katz
AniaHope@aol.com
* * *
A lowly freshman seeks to pay tribute to the WKMB of 01-02
* * *
Verse one:
Our uniforms are orange,
Our uniforms are blue,
The weather outside,
Is too hot for you.
Chorus:
Pizza is hot and lemonade sugared,
The Wildkit band isn't phased
We go marching in
The drumline reverb rings
sound of triangle
Plays will be made
And football will be played
The Wildkit band isn't phased
( hey hey hey!)
We are singing to ya,
Lordy we don't fool ya,
Let the game begin.
* * *
The mallot wielders strain
And the residents are in pain
We march the perimeter
Sarah's up front
And cadences (holy!) behind
Ellen's in virtual control of things
Last game's in the rain
And seniors think it's a pain
To be lugging instruments in garbage bags
The saxes led by Maggie
Know exactly where to be
And trumpets fall apart by the trees
Clarinets cant be heard
The podium is spurned
And hats everywhere are stolen
The sousaphones are heavy
The flute song is piping
And percussion is at it full swing
Songs will be marched
Blocks will be formed
And the Wildkit flag will be ran
While the football players are loosing
We are refusing
To stop our loud and obnoxious cheering
* * *
Disclaimers: I do not own anything or anyone that doesn't rightfully belong to me. If there's any other legal mumbo jumbo I'm supposed to write, well, this is where it'd go.