owls and pussy cats can make up their minds
to sail out to sea and even get married
but they don't have parents or other such binds
whose one job in life is to see that they're harried
now a seven year old boy whose mind is quite clear
about what the world is and his proper place
will feel deeply distraught and totally drear
when told to wipe all his smart dreams off his face
when told he can't have what his brother (eleven)
just takes for granted and won't even share
adults can't imagine what hell blots out heaven
when a seven year old boy is forbidden to swear
so what a great hope is the land of the bong tree
where a piggy-wig grants you whatever you wish
and you can if you dare be as daft as a donkey
or turn on the spot to a great ogre fish
and brothers and mothers and fathers are sent
to the north or south pole or even to mars
and not to come back till you agree to relent
and then to shut up or you'll mars them to bars
mind you owls and pussy cats have to get married
they have to join hands and dance by the moon
for seven year olds that's worse than being carried
to a toilet and tipped in by a runcible spoon
so maybe it's better to stay where the home is
to put up with parents and brothers (eleven)
to turn the new day into the splendour this poem is
and everyone goes yippee for matthew now seven
