Sometimes Tables Later Turn
The child who was frolicking in the sun
And on sighting me broke into a run
Was Ted Colonel’s Fleeing Ferrari of a Son
Also, a lad who could himself kill for a denied bun
Judging it Needless Injustice done…
Now he’s eighteen and keeping a gun,
Of all colors A Sickening Dun
And sure visiting its trigger for fun,
Though with it could drop dead a nun.
Now, I sight him and break into a run,
Broadly smile as he stands in The Sun
And by accident closer pay for his bun…
Sometimes tables later turn
And it’s the turn of The Bossy to burn.
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