I know of this little acting coach, teacher man
Who does everything, anything he possible can
To teach us success, yet remain "humility afloat"
Stretch me to act all characters, even silly like a goat

He says he is old and tired and bald and has no hair
Does his best to show us, he will always, always care
But in his own special, odd quirkly little unusual way
He's the one who worked and worked, taught us to say

In a British or Russian accent, "What A To Do...."
Turn, and stand tall; straight like Alexander too
He stays up late writing many scholarship letters
Has a costume closet full of colorful hats and feathers

So how did this creative, workaholic man come to be?
Something about a meteorite falling during a high tea
The truth is: "We're all as a school so much better off.."
Pizza, hamburger, donut-runs after practice still revolves

Here's to the teacher, our coach who makes our skin thick
By teasing, scaring us until our heart bombs begin to tick
Might be somewhat of a Christian rebel at heart; a true kid
In the end, all we can tell him is "Thank you so much, Mr. Sid"