The old men in the sky

Look ,junior, look at the sky,

Look at those old men fly,

Like the birds,that sit on trees,

Like the dangerous honey bees;One after another, another and another,

Like a brother and a brother,

Some young and some old,

Some frightened,some mousy,

some like the lion,OLD AND BOLD,

Some lovely as silver,some as gold;

Don’t bother me Mom,Don’t bother me to the hilt,

I shall say it once,clear and loud,

Don’t you know that’s called a Cloud.