Your kids are spies
They’re spies for who?
They’d tell lies
They’d tell them to you.
Quite the profession
Natural born liars
Lying even if in confession
Greatest make-belief suppliers
So they go to bed
Their pajamas are gadgets
They can’t shoot you dead
Too much fun lost in unwon bets
So you sleep with one eye
Open and so do they
How can you tell when they cry
They’re not crying for help on the way
Make them play sports, decide
Before their government decides for you
It’s only by one law that kids abide
It’s a secret code. Like to know it? Me too!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem