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.