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Poem

I don’t quite get grownups, or why they’re in charge;
Unless it’s perhaps because they’re so large.
They strut and they loom and they talk through their teeth
And I really must ask what they hide underneath
All that pomp and that bluster when they’re making a point;
They sure do look funny with their nose out of joint.

Grownups are beasties that have to be tamed,
Want everything their way, and hate to be blamed
For whatever they do that causes a stink;
Is that why they all have their very own shrink?
Grownups, I find, don’t play by the book,
Then fabricate ways to get off the hook. 

Some grownups I guess can be pretty nice
And are willing to offer a word of advice
Even when you don’t want one, then tell you a tale
Of when they were your age, and threw a sharp nail
At the boy from next door, and blackened his eye.
When a grownup gets going, just nod in reply. 

Though grownups may not be always that cool
Who else would we get to drive us to school?
Or buy us our clothes, or bake us our cakes, 
Or when we’re out camping, save us from snakes?
We’ll just have to keep them, these grownups of ours
Though they often do act like they come straight from Mars.

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