If Chickens Were Pink

Guns are very, very bad,
Such was said by my dad.
But I do not agree as such,
‘Cause I like guns so very much.
I like to scare the little kids,
When they’re not wearing their skid lids.

When I get home from school each day
I have to choose which pet to slay
And my brother doesn’t like me
So I put him on a boat to sea.

My mother’s always cooking stuff,
But when she doesn’t do enough
I hit her with a weapon crude
And tell her to get on with my food!

My daddy always tells me off,
‘Cause I often call him a stupid boff.
I’m going very far away
To a small, lost land to stay.

I want to go up to the moon
And hit it with a wooden spoon.
My brother thinks that he’s the best,
Despite the fact that he wears a vest.

Sometimes I think
If chickens were pink
And dogs were green,
My car wouldn’t loose its shiny sheen.
Now my little story’s done,
And I can eat my currant bun.