Mr. Jones woke up on time And put his tie and sport coat on And read his comics on the John And went and watched the news online.
He ate his Frosted Fiber Flakes And went to fry some bacon strips The weight would settle near his hips But no bacon was more than Jones could take.
Yet even so, there’s a catch: The bacon now on his plate Was in a somewhat limp and flaccid state!
And Mr. Jones gave a yell And flipped the table around And dumped his fibrous flakes onto the ground.
Chorus: The happy sun shines down On Mr. Jones’ rage face. Cause Jones hates all the world with dignity and grace. They try to cheer him up, but he does not know why. Let them try. Let them die!
He had started off his class that day When Bobby Whistler raised his hand dismissed its relevance offhand And Jones did not know what to say.
Mr. Jones was almost done With his lesson, but the pupils Found that Trig was far less useful Than checking out the cute girl in row one.
And they could lessen his pay And he would think it unfair. And he could hate all the kids who didn’t care.
And he could hate all the folks Who never thought that his work Was good enough for their spoiled little twerps.
Chorus
Mr. Jones went for a walk But as he tried cross the street A biker nearly crushed his feet! And Jones was left too stunned to talk.
The driver of a white RAV4, As token of his general wrath Yelled a rather obscene word As Jones scrambled to get out of his path.
But a peculiar look Was coming over his face As he stood there and cursed the human race.
And Mr. Jones gave a scream That would have frightened Nick Cage And kicked a couple of parked cars out of rage.
Chorus