There was a man; he had a son.
His name was The Boy, Number One
(His parents didn't know a tonne).
Every day, just for fun
He'd go out with his water gun.
If he killed a bird, his wage was won.
O how those birds he loved to dun!
But one tragic, sad day in the sun
He shot at a bird, but hit a nun:
Then the police he had to outrun!
No longer had this chase had begun
Than did the Boy give up, tired and outdone.
In the finicky seeds of life's burger bun,
He was still just a Boy, but not Number One
And just as the Earth's spin was spun
From normal life the Boy was shunned.
In the jail he pleaded till his his tongue
Turned blue: he didn't mean to, sirs and sons:
To shoot a nun
With his water gun.