A

Rusty

Old sword

Hung on an

Old     cord

Thinking of

The good old

Days, ‘Oh I was

So    fine, so

Fine  I would

Shine oh those

Were the good

Days.’ ‘On my

Own   accord’

Said the cord

To the sword

I remember why they took us away

They brought in those guns

To have all their fun

They  thought

Cannons were

Number one

The cord started

To cry and the sword

Said with a sigh, ‘Oh

What a horrible day.’

The end