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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?


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