Paul Has To Color

McCartney Has to Color What I like about war which I always abhor Is if when we looked was not found anymore Replaced by many people with much sympathy Who like listening to Battle of Bands in a symphony. Don't beat up on people but round drums instead Also typing up my many poems always do dread Sad hearing wounded soldiers with all of their cries We could create war games and them computerize. Pretend you are a guard standing at a post And Queen who happens to be a perfect host May be annoyed when carriages horse-drawn End up doing things all over her lavish lawn. No wonder She has all of Her grass so green And words HER MAJESTY may often mean Of course with your poems I would be delighted Because of their greatness, thou shalt be knighted. McCartney is never curly but cute as can be Could never have been any comparison to me; When greeted my good looks are beyond compare But poor appalled Paul has to color his hair. PS. Please keep Paul secret between you and me Which is what I saw while sitting in front of my TV. He He He James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran