The Three Musketeers Poem by Denis Martindale

Three lion cubs like musketeers
Renowned of ancient France.
Though not so ancient in their years,
Their memory enchants.
For there they were, rapscallions!
As cunning as could be.
Yet not opposed to dalliance,
Of wasting time, you see.

The little scamps intent on fun,
Still paced themselves at times.
Just lying quiet 'neath the sun,
Yet scheming future crimes!
Not scared of Mum, not scared of Dad!
They'd pounce without restraint.
And though it made their parents mad,
Sometimes they thought it quaint.

The little terrors, boys, of course!
And you know what boys are!
Each one thinks he's a tour de force,
Each one thinks he's the star!
They're all deluded! Nuts for brains!
But winsome in a way.
It's only through our joint complaints
That they'll grow up some day