I Told Him
I Ima Ryma
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I told him it was not for play,
And showed him how to use it right.
He'd have one of his own someday,
To hunt or if he had to fight.
I told him that his grades were bad,
All those flunks on his report card,
Goofing off, and it made me mad.
He needed some coming down hard.
I told him to forget about
Going with me to the gun show.
He left for school in a big pout.
I got a call 'bout noon or so
It was the school about my son.
He shot his teacher with my gun.
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