I’m packing my jeans and my underwear too;
I’ve found a ship bound for the sea.
For if my mom and dad read what I wrote on the wall,
It’s going to be curtains for me.
It is a word,
Seemed harmless at first,
It has only four letters in all.
I did it in pencil,
It’s not very dark;
It’s so nice and neat, and really quite small.
But best to be safe,
I’d better be off
To sail to those far distant lands.
For my one little word,
It’s the kind of word
That will grow hair in the palms of your hands.
So it’s me to the window
And down to the yard,
And away I go over the hill.
Of course, I could just turn my pencil around,
And erase it…
All right then, I Will!
