Wackadoodle0987
Arch-Magnate of the Beau Monde Patriciate
If only kids reorganised the world
Things would be simpler by far.
Common sense would prevail
And no-one could fail
To know what is what,
Where we are.
For instance,
Turkeys would come from Turkey,
Pandas from Panda Monium,
Mustard instead of custard,
Unless you didn’t like it
And then it could be mustardnot.
It is all so very not obvious,
And that is why I suppose
They will not let us change those things
That should be,
Everyone knows.
Bedtime when we are having fun,
Up time when we’re sleeping,
Food that’s nasty is “Good for you”,
Nice stuff “not too much”
Or “just a few”.
How can it be, who is to say
Whether I can, or whether I may?
I’m not going to get it
Even if I pray.
“God loves good children”
Oh where are they?
I don’t know anyone better than me;
Oops now the spellings are covered in tea.
And chocolate biscuit;
The problem with that
Is “not till you’ve finished”
And I’ll never do that.
Not while there’s no sense at all to things,
And it’s not our fault
It’s not our idea that brings
The dust under beds,
Or the nits in our heads,
Or tools rusty in sheds.
Why so much stuff that I’m sure I won’t need?
Silly words just for spelling,
No-one ever says “plead”.
If it rhymes then it ought to be just spelt like freed;
So reorganisation by kids, zwot we need.
Things would be simpler by far.
Common sense would prevail
And no-one could fail
To know what is what,
Where we are.
For instance,
Turkeys would come from Turkey,
Pandas from Panda Monium,
Mustard instead of custard,
Unless you didn’t like it
And then it could be mustardnot.
It is all so very not obvious,
And that is why I suppose
They will not let us change those things
That should be,
Everyone knows.
Bedtime when we are having fun,
Up time when we’re sleeping,
Food that’s nasty is “Good for you”,
Nice stuff “not too much”
Or “just a few”.
How can it be, who is to say
Whether I can, or whether I may?
I’m not going to get it
Even if I pray.
“God loves good children”
Oh where are they?
I don’t know anyone better than me;
Oops now the spellings are covered in tea.
And chocolate biscuit;
The problem with that
Is “not till you’ve finished”
And I’ll never do that.
Not while there’s no sense at all to things,
And it’s not our fault
It’s not our idea that brings
The dust under beds,
Or the nits in our heads,
Or tools rusty in sheds.
Why so much stuff that I’m sure I won’t need?
Silly words just for spelling,
No-one ever says “plead”.
If it rhymes then it ought to be just spelt like freed;
So reorganisation by kids, zwot we need.
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