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The Smell of Rebellion Sing Trunchbull

Matilda The Musicalhuatong
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This school of late

has started reeking

Quiet, maggots, when I'm speaking!

Reeking with a most disturbing scent...

Only the finest nostrils smell it,

But I know it oh too well.

It is the odour of rebellion.

It's the bouquet of dissent!

And you may bet your britches

This headmistress

Finds this foul odiferousness

Wholly olfactorily insulting.

And so to stop the stench's spread,

I find a session of phys. ed.

Sorts the merely rank

from the revolting.

The smell of rebellion

comes out in the sweat,

And phys. ed. will get you sweating,

And it won't be long

before I smell the pong

Of aiding and abetting!

A bit of phys. ed. will tell us who

Has a head full of rebellious thoughts.

Hold! Hold!

Just like a rotten egg floats

To the top of a bucket of water.

The smell of rebellion!

The stench of revolt!

The reek of insubordination!

The whiff of resistance!

The pong of dissent!

The funk of mutiny in action!

Before a weed becomes

too big and greedy,

You really need to nip it in the bud.

POSITION TWO!

Before the worm starts to turn,

You must scrape off the dirt,

And rip it from the mud!

The whiff of insurgence!

The stench of intent!

The reek of pre pubescent protest!

The funk of defiance!

The odour of coup!

The waft of anarchy in progress!

Once we've e orcised these demons,

They shall be too pooped for dreaming!

Some double time discipline

Should stop the rot from setting in!

All right let's step it up.

Double time!

One, two, three, four!

Discipline

Discipline

For children who aren't listening,

For midgets who are fidgeting

And whispering in history,

Their chattering and chittering,

Their nattering and twittering,

Is tempered with a smattering of

Discipline.

We must begin insisting

On rigidity and discipline,

Persistently resisting

This anarchistic mischieving.

These minutes you are frittering

On pandering and pitying

While little ones like this

They just want discipline.

The simpering and whimpering,

The dribbling and the spittling,

The 'Miss, I need a tissue'

Is an issue we can fi .

There is no mystery to mastering

The art of classroom mistressing.

It's discipline, discipline, discipline!

The smell of rebellion!

The stench of revolt!

The reek of pre pubescent plotting!

The whiff of resistance!

The pong of dissent!

The funk of moral fibre rotting!

Imagine a world with no children.

Close your eyes and just dream.

Imagine. Come on try it...

The peace and the quiet...

A babbling stream...

Now imagine a woods with a cottage,

And inside that cottage we find

A dwarf called Zeke, a carnival freak,

Who can fold paper hats with his mind,

And he says, "Don't let them

steal your horses! No!"

"Don't let them throw them away! No!"

"If you find your way through,"

"They'll be waiting for you,"

"Singing 'neigh neigh'!"

She's mad!

Aha! And there, just like I said,

The stinking maggot rears his head.

Even the squittiest, pittiest mess

Can harbour seeds of stinkiness.

Have you ever seen

anything more repellent?!

Have you ever smelled anything worse

Than that smell of rebellion?!

The stench of revolt!

The reek of insubordination!

The whiff of resistance!

The pong of dissent!

And I will not stop

'til you are squashed!

'Til this rebellion is quashed!

'Til glorious, sweaty

discipline has washed

This sickening scent...

Away!

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