[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
This school of late has started reeking -
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 olfactorily insulting
And so to stop the stench's spread
I find a session of phys. ed
Sorts the merely rank from the revolting

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
[MISS TRUNCHBULL, (KIDS), MATILDA]
(One, two, three, four...)
The smell of rebellion!
The stench of revolt!
The reek of insubordination!
(I can't take it anymore! One, two, three, four...)
The whiff of resistance!
The pong of dissent!
The funk of mutiny in action!
(That's not right!)

Before a 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!

(One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four)
The whiff of insurgence!
The stench of intent!
The reek of pre-pubescent protest!
(But that's not right!)
(One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four)
The funk of defiance!
The odour of coup!
The waft of anarchy in progress!
(I can't take it anymore!)
Once we've exercised these demons
They shall be too pooped for dreaming!
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
And 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 ones like this
They just want discipline
The simpering and whimpering
The dribbling and the spittling
The 'Miss, I need a tissue'
Is an issue we can fix
There is no mystery to mastering
The art of classroom mistressing
It's discipline, discipline!
(Discipline!)
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 babbling stream...
Now imagine a woods with a cottage
And inside that cottage we find
A dwarf called Zeke, 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!"
"If you find your way through,"
"They'll be waiting for you,"
"Singing 'neigh neigh'!"

[CHILD, spoken]
She's mad!

[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
Aha! And there, just like I said
The stinking maggot rears his head
Even the squittiest, pittiest mess
Can harbour seeds of stinkiness
Have you ever seen anything more repellent?!
Have you ever smelled anything worse
Than that smell of rebellion?!

[MISS TRUNCHBULL, overlapping, foreground]
The stench of revolt!
The reek of insubordination!
The whiff of resistance!
The pong of dissent!

[CHILDREN, overlapping, background] (x2)
Discipline, discipline
No more whispering
Children need discipline
Cut out their whimpering
If you're mischeiving
She'll sniff you out
Without a doubt
She's a snout in a million

[MISS TRUNCHBULL]
And I will not stop 'til you are squashed!
'Til this rebellion is quashed!
'Til glorious, sweaty discipline has washed
This sickening scent...
Away!