“You’re a Mean One, Mr. Cypress”
You’re ridiculous, Mr. Chris
You Really are a heel
You walked right into McLean
With exercise that wasn’t real
You are trying this new age training
With sleds that have no whee…..ls!
Your creative as a bumb,
15 coffees you still aren’t done,
Add some burpees just for fun Misterrr CHRRRIIIIISS!
You’re a monster, Mister Keith
You eat fresh dirt and call it Organic
You poop acorns and call it fantastic
You’ve got dandelion in your teeth, Mister Keith.
Given the choice between the two of you, I’d take my favorite dessert aisle….
You’re a vile one Mr. Jimmy
You come from the ‘Burg which isn’t a city
Knowing nothing but awful and bile
So shut it and understand that you’ll get no Virginia pity
When you weigh no more than the beer, called Iron Ci….ty.
You’re a foul one, Mister Coach
You’re a nasty, wasted punk!
Our Mondays are ruined
With your side plank crappy junk
The three words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote:
Stink! Stank! Stunk?!!
You’re a liar, Miss Cypress.
I kind of like your style
You’re the king of lost count reps
Even though it makes me smile
Your soul is an appalling Jane Fonda
Overflowing with the meanest named Michaels
Stealing moves from the likes of Simmons
Mangled up in tangled up …….. styles!
You nauseate me, Mister Ron
You’re a wussy, itchy, witch
You pick your nose at random
You drink sewage from a ditch
You have bead head, Mister Philip
With an unmastered inner clock
Overslept again you college hunk
You crooked Jerky Jock
I must confess to all our Friends
Your hearts are bigger than the best
That we love you and here’s the thing
We wish you all a Merry Christmas
Your staff – The Elm Street King!