I Want To Be Like The Grown Ups Are

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 give and take and all that counts.
I don’t waste paper in sailing boats,
and save it all as bills and notes.

I want to end 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 like a grown up grows,
From a black nightingale that sings so dim,
I shout aloud like a flock of crows.