The Apple Cart

The Apple Cart 

We were the offspring of the Volksie generation

The Nestum cherubs of the Baby Boom

Nylon, terelyne, lurex and spandex 

All mixed in with a trip to the moon

In our DNA the early rumblings 

Of human division we did not understand

But soon we learnt the language of survival

Was written in the palms

Of our sticky little hands

So off we marched with our Crayola rifles

While Dorothy Fisher got a brand new heart

We coloured in pictures of the man on the moon

And took a Giant Leap onto the apple cart

Great big apples. Fresh and juicy

More than enough for and more to spare

We ate and ate until our bellies ached

And still there were apples enough to share

Which was quite fun until somebody said:

“Hey! These rules aren’t right. Something’s wrong”

So, some of the kids were allowed up on the cart

While some other kids had to trundle along

Behind the apple cart picking up the apple cores

Thrown down by the kids on top

Oh dear, where was I going with all this

Ah yes, until the apple cart came to a stop

A grinding halt our apple cart came to

And all those kids just jumped on top

and started throwing apples at us

and some of the apples sort of started exploding

Pop! pop! pop!

Which wasn’t much fun ‘cos the apples stung

“It wasn’t done on purpose”

The top kids said.

But we all knew, they meant for the apples

Those mean and nasty apples

To hit us in the head

Well, we all grew up and some of us got rich

And some of us got married and some of us got smart

But every now and then, I think back and I wonder

Where are the kids on the top of the cart?