Classic Poem

Oh, big Mister Cloud,
send me a black cloak like yours?
And a white plume and ruffles—
and your dagger!
Maybe it's a tomahawk!
Please, Mister Cloud,
I'd be the pride of the street like you,
and scare everybody—even the bullies!
Mother wouldn't dare call me home!

And your blue wings,
maybe you'd send me your wings?
So I could fly? Or sail!

Mister Cloud, you're worse than a giant—
how you growl, how you glare, how you shout—
don't, don't go away, don't, don't go away!

You're crawling on your enemies?
On the palefaces?
Kill 'em, kill 'em all, kill 'em, kill 'em all,
but look out, Mister Cloud!
Snatch off your plume or they'll see you—
hide your tomahawk!
Ooh, Mister Cloud!