When what, to my wondering eyes should appear,
but some little street punk, making off with my deer!
"Hey, put back my lawn kitch!" I yelled in a rage,
"Or I'll beat you to death, REGARDLESS of age!"
The little bastage just laughed, with a bit of a smirk,
"You'll never outrun me, your threats just won't work!"
So I pulled out my pistol, and took careful aim,
"So I'll shoot you right there. It's all quite the same"
Well, the street punk went ghostly, dropped his loot, and then fled,
and behind me shouts Mamma, "Are you out of your head!?"
"But that street punk was stealing" shouted I in retort,
Mamma said, "so you'd shoot him? Oh my GAWD, where's the sport?
"Take the car, and go chase him, run him down if you can,
but don't shoot him, you idjit! Use your head! Make a plan!"
By this time, that young street punk, so lively and quick,
simply vanished to nowhere, and it made me quite sick.
"Now you see what you've done here?" shouted I to my wife,
"Little bastage, he's gone now! And I swear on my life!
Never will I forget him, for as long as I live,
and if ever I see him, what a thrashing I'll give!"
Ok, next?
