[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
This school, of late, has started reeking –
[AMANDA]
Eric . .
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
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 olfactorally insulting
And so, to stop this stench's spread
I find a session of phys-ed
Sorts the merely "rank" from the "revoting"
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
[KIDS]
One, two, three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The reek of insubordination
[KIDS]
I can't take it anymore
One, two, three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The whiff of resistance
The pong of dissent
The funk of mutiny in action
[MATILDA]
That's not right
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
Before the 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
[KIDS]
One, two three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The stench of intent
[KIDS]
One, two, three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The reek of pre-pubescent protest
The pong of defiance
[KIDS]
One, two, three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The odour of coup
[KIDS]
One, two, three, four
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
The waft of anarchy in progress
[ERIC]
Please, miss, please!
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
Once we've "exercised" these demons
They shall be too pooped for scheming
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
Or 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 'uns like this:
They just want discipline
The simpering and whimpering
The dribbling and the spittling
The "miss, I need a tissue" –
It's an issue we can fix
There is no mystery to mastering
The art of cla**room discipline
It's discipline, discipline –
[KIDS]
Discipline!
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
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 burbling stream
Now imagine a woods with a cottage
And inside that cottage we find
A dwarf called Zeek
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, no, no!
If you find your way through
They'll be waiting for you, singing
"Neigh! Neigh!"
[ERIC]
She's mad!
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
Aha!
And there, just like I said:
The stinking maggot rears his head!
Even the squitiest, pitiest 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
[KIDS]
Discipline. Discipline
No more whispering
Children need discipline
Cut out that whispering
If you're mischiefing
She'll sniff you out
Without a doubt
She's a snout in a million
Discipline. Discipline
No more whispering
Children need discipline
Cut out that whispering
[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
And I will not stop till you are squashed;
Till this rebellion is quashed;
Till glorious, sweaty discipline has washed
This sickening stench – away!