Most Embarrassing Moment #7- The Rebel Yell Story

When I was at BYU, I took a class called Latin American poetry. We studied authors like Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, and even some America poets like Langston Hughes. It was an awesome class. My professor was pretty young and new to teaching, and he came in one day with some song lyrics for America by Simon and Garfunkel. These were song lyrics he liked and something he considered poetry. (By the way, I think this song is beautiful.) Then he read us some other song lyrics for a song that was popular then. I don't know who sings this, but I do remember the lyrics:

Wanna put my tender
heart in a blender
something something something
to a beautiful oblivion
rendez-vous than I'm through with you

He considered these lyrics to be "bad poetry." So he had this cool idea for a class party. He wanted us to all come to his house and have a bad poetry reading. He suggested we find the worst poem or song lyrics we could and we could all go around and take a turn reading them to the class. Now, at this time, Bobby was serving his mission and we was in Colorado for two years. I was missing him dreadfully, and everything I did I tried to connect it to him in some way. Bobby loves Billy Idol, so I thought I would read the lyrics to Rebel Yell.

Last night a little dancer came dancin' to my door
Last night a little angel Came pumpin cross my floor
She said "Come on baby I got a licence for love
And if it expires pray help from above"

In the midnight hour she cried- "more, more, more"
With a rebel yell she cried- "more, more, more"
In the midnight hour babe- "more, more, more"
With a rebel yell- "more, more, more"
More, more, more.

I was so naive. I started reading the lyrics and I got to the part where it says, "In the midnight hour, she cried 'more, more, more'".... and I thought, is this song sexual? Then "With a rebel yell, she cried 'more, more, more'" Okay, yeah, this song is referring to sex. But I kept reading, I didn't know what to do! Finally after the second stanza, the professor stopped me, probably because his eight-year-old daughter was sitting on his lap and I was reading dirty poetry at his house! What he must have thought of me!