The Pastry War

Daddy, Daddy
Why is my name so small
When that should not be
Seeing I’m not so tall?

With such a little name
No matter what I do
I will not see the fame
The Incas brought Peru

And with my frame so slight
Whatever could I build
And are my chances bright
That the neighbours would be thrilled?

And though I’m all of four
I’ve never had a girl
And when the men went to war
I was my mother’s furl

I cannot buy a beer
Or drive our old car
For the police would be here
To take me away from Ma

Well, well my little man
In truth your name is small
But being the best you can
Is quite a different ball

As for your little name
Many with a longer one
Heightened their country’s shame
Even in the Andes sun

You sure are rather frail
But show me a neighbour’s son
Who would not, hopefully, pale
On seeing your medals won

I know you’re only four
Girls come at ten-and-eight
As for the pastry war
You conquered many a plate

Some things you cannot do
There soon will come an age
When nothing will stop you
But you must go through each stage.