AuburnScribbler

Pic, Pack, Happy Slap, Gift a Sod a Throne (The B-Side to a Nursery Rhyme)

This young lass, playing one,

she ate tic tacs, made of sun,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lass, in the warzone!

 

This young lass, playing two,

starts imagining a crew,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lass, in the warzone!

 

This young lass, playing three,

loses some identity,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lass, in the warzone!

 

This young lass, playing four,

chucks her skirt, upon the floor,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lad, in the warzone!  

 

This young lad, playing five,

still stands to remain alive,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lad, in the warzone!

 

This young lad, playing six,

buries pride, in open ditch,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lad, in the warzone!

 

This young lad, playing seven,

is so proud to be their weapon,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this young lad, in the warzone,

 

This young lad, playing eight,

is now running for senate,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this bastard, in the warzone!

 

This bastard, playing nine,

rubs his hands with cash landmine,

with a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

this bastard, in the warzone!

 

This young lass, playing ten,

is dying to start again,

but a pic, pack, happy slap,

gift a sod a throne,

means lost soul, cannot atone!