You got me all dressed up in fresh-ironed clothes
But that ain’t who I am.
Makin’ me learn everything a good boy knows
No. That AIN'T who I am.

You got me recitin’ verses an’ foldin’ socks
But that ain’t what I do.
Learnin’ me some grammar like a good boy talks
No. That AIN'T what I do.

You got me strugglin’ through all this math you taught
But that ain’t what I like.
Education expectations like a good boy got
No. That AIN'T what I like.

But here’s who I am, what I do, what I like.
I’m the boy with no shoes,
With nothin’ to lose,
And nothin’ to gain just the same.
The boy who likes fishin’,
And shootin’-star wishin’,
The lion that you just can’t tame.

Yet you go out of your way, day after day,
To teach me what’s right and what’s wrong.
But Mrs. Douglas, why try to deny that I
Won’t put up with such truck very long?

There, here’s your poem, nothin’ more to write.
Now you know what it’s like bein’ Huck.
I’ll be tryin’ my best to move out to the West,
And I don’t care who gives a…

[Note to editors: I would like for all of the "ain'ts" in all-caps to be italicized instead. This online submission form won't let me italicize words, so using all-caps seemed like the only thing to do.]