Grown Ups

I am tall and franchise though,

Yet why I feel I need to grow?

Why do I feel I'm not like them,

Who bustle the roads and beat the drum?

I want to be like the grown-ups are,

Just sell my toys and drive a car.

With kith and kins I want to brawl,

And rack my books from where they sprawl.

I want to manage my own accounts,

And gives and takes and all that counts.

I don't waste paper in sailing boats,

And save it all as bills and notes.

I want to end up all my pranks,

And grow up enough to hold the ranks.

I wish I would drink in lavish pubs,

And no more toony coffee mugs.

With princely pomp, I cover my skin,

And dump all mud in my master’s bin.

With a painter’s brush, I quote each note,

And tear all scrawls that a baby ever wrote.

With all this done I do not cease,

And grow up further as a grown-up grows,

From a black nightingale that sings so dim,

I shout aloud like a flock of crows.