There was a man who had no plan
   and didn’t know the route,
who squandered all the season’s haul
   and ran off, destitute.
His ice cream truck never made a buck
   from famished girls and boys
who heard its chime, but had no dime
   for what every kid enjoys.

A brand-new-comer for the summer,
   he cast a magic spell —
a vanilla beam of dog-day gleam.
   On catching his mellow bell,
the moms complained and hoped it rained
   but sadly it never did.
That fabricated, sugar-baited
   goo could kill a kid! 

Yet every day, their tots would play
   around the ice cream truck.
Each got to eat a freebee treat
   while moms all uttered, “Yuck.”
Though they would shout, their kids flew out
   the door. They were ecstatic
when hearing that bell and smelling the smell
   of fumes, so enigmatic.

Before he told his boss he’d rolled
   through town to lose his yield,
the man made tracks so the ruthless axe
   wouldn’t fall, and went afield.
Now the grownups beam, but the kids all dream
   of ice cream. All they do
is watch TV, have cookies with tea
   and night and day they’re blue.

There was a man who had no plan
   and didn’t know the route,
who squandered all the season’s haul
   and ran off, destitute.
His ice cream truck never made a buck
   from gloomy girls and boys
who, from time to time, still hear it chime
   like a far-off church bell’s noise.

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