[muttering, girls chattering]
"What's this?"
Girl: "Through all the long night, Winter moon glows with bright love,
Sleet her silver tears."
[Sokka sighs] [Music]
Sokka (dreamily): "Poetry."
[crash, girls cry out in shock]
Sokka: "I am so sorry. [grunts] Something struck me in the rear.
[thump] I just wound up here."
[girls giggle and clap]
Teacher: "Five, seven, then five syllables mark a haiku.
Remarkable oaf." [Music]
Sokka: "They call me Sokka. That is, in the water tribe.
I am not an oaf."
[girls giggle]
Teacher: "Chittering monkey. In the Spring he climbs treetops,
and thinks himself tall."
Girls: "Oooh."
Sokka: "You think you're so smart with your fancy little words.
This is not so hard."
Girls: "Ooooh!!"
Teacher: "Whole seasons are spent mastering the form, the style.
None calls it easy."
Sokka: "I calls it easy. Like I paddle my canoe,
I'll paddle yours too!"
[girls giggle and clap]
Teacher: "There's nuts and there's fruits. In Fall, the clinging plum drops
always to be squashed." [squelch noise]
Saka: "Squish squash, sling that slang. I'm always right back at ya.
Like my boomerang." [girls laugh loudly]
[Music]
Sokka: "That's right, I'm Sokka. It's pronounced with an 'okka.'
Young ladies, I rock ya."
[silence, crickets chirp]
Man: "Ah, that's one too many syllables there, bub."
[dramatic music, Sokka yells]
Sokka (sadly): "Poetry."