Pretty Good

		There once was a pretty good student,
		Who sat in a pretty good class
		And was taught by a pretty good teacher,
		Who always let pretty good pass.
		He wasn't terrific at reading,
		He wasn't a whiz-bang at math.
		But for him, education was leading
		Straight down a pretty good path.
		He didn't find school too exciting,
		But he wanted to do pretty well,
		And he did have some trouble with writing,
		And nobody had taught him to spell
		When doing arithmetic problems,
		Pretty good was regarded as fine.
		Five plus five needn't always add up to ten,
		A pretty good answer is nine.
		The pretty good class that he sat in
		Was part of a pretty good school.
		And the student was not an exception,
		On the contrary, he was the rule.
		The pretty good school that he went to
		Was there in a pretty good town.
		And nobody there seemed to notice
		He could not tell a verb from a noun.
		The pretty good student in fact was
		Part of a pretty good mob.
		And the first time he knew what he lacked was
		When he looked for a pretty good job.
		It was then, when he sought a position,
		He discovered that life could be tough.
		And he soon had a sneaky suspicion 
		Pretty good might not be good enough.
		The pretty good town in our story
		Was part of a pretty good state,
		Which had pretty good aspiration,
		And prayed for a pretty good fate.
		There once was a pretty good nation,
		Pretty proud of the greatness it had,
		Which learned much too late,
		If you want to be great,
		Pretty good is, in fact, pretty bad.

"The Osgood File," copyright 1986, CBS Inc.

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