A Dungeon of My Own

If our basement were concrete with thick walls and bars
And my parents allowed me to use it for fun,
I’d get rid of the bundles and boxes and jars
And I’d build me a dungeon and shut out the sun.

Then I’d round up the kids who refuse to play fair,
Or who get all the A’s and who know how to spell.
Then the tattletales, bullies, and kids who won’t share
And throw each of them into his own little cell.

I’d include all the teachers who like to give tests,
And the grown-ups who tease and make fun of my looks,
And the brussels sprout farmers and fibbers and pests,
And the neighborhood gossips and vandals and crooks.

Then I’d lock up the printers of "No Skating" signs;
Also hunters and folks who are mean to their pets;
And polluters and people who butt into lines;
And then umpires and fans of the Yankees and Mets.

After adding my brother, who hogs the TV,
And my sister, along with the cello she plays,
I would lock all the cages and swallow the key
And then live here in peace for the rest of my days.

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