Is This My Little Tow Headed Boy?

There weren't any black families in ruled michigan for about a hundred square miles, and no one had got the memo that wanted to ride. So i ges, well, o sit down in the first seat. Is this his little tow headed boy? And he spit in the sea. I don't say anything to her. We ride. Go to school. The next day, the shout and the scream and the howlen. Now, mary jone bes her back path, and i sit down. We do not speak. We just ride. And that's how it goes every single day untill the middle of the school year, they switch things up.

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