MY LITTLE CHICKADEES
It’s that time again
When the school holidays come round
And all sane adults go to ground
To avoid the pavement madness
Of the two-wheeled angry hordes
Swarming like demented wasps
Buzzing in and out, turn about
Up and down, round and round
The world flapping in their wake
All seeking somewhere to have their cake.
Perhaps W C Fields was right;
When asked his views on kids he cried
It all depends on whether they are boiled or fried.