The Found Child

Wendy flew from foreign land
Destined to be Mother
For a boyish Peter Pan
Servant to none other,
Yet a Chief to Those and These
Puckish, knavish, waggish thieves,
Sons unwanted,
3-2-1’s,
With fingers red and painted guns.

Home!
Dearest Wendy take us home      
For white linens and a poem,               
Bars of soap for washing hands,              
To leave behind the merriment               
Of our lonely band.

Left, right, Mother hung their swords
And toiled about the room,
By candle light and wondrous words
She quelled the island’s gloom,
“Once upon a time,” she sung
As evening’s glow came undone,
Slumber, shadows,
A-B-C’s,
An infant cried among the trees.

Home!
Dearest Wendy take us home       
For white linens and a poem,               
Bars of soap for washing hands               
To leave behind the merriment               
Of our lonely band.

Lilly crept onto the ship
A knife between her teeth,
Tinker flashed white-hot right-quick
And clouted Mr. Smee,
Panthers pounced and Pirates bled,
Tattooed Jukes bumped his head,
Wendy shrieked at Canon’s boom
As Peter dodged a stone,
“Send’em down to watery tombs,”
He mocked the Captain’s tone,
And old man Hook raised his nose
As if the war were a rose,
“What’s that?” he cried.
“Tick-tock-tock,”
Popped the bubbles behind the Croc.

Home!
Dearest Wendy take us home       
For white linens and a poem,               
Bars of soap for washing hands               
To leave behind the merriment               
Of our lonely band.

Away next morn’ tip-toed three
Darlings forever more,
Back to London’s cobbled streets
With locks upon the door,
Towards home they flew through the cold
Twirl and spin of Christmas snow,
Past the tower
With hands that toll,
Except for one
Who will never, ever grow old.

Home!
Dearest Wendy took them home       
For white linens and a poem,               
Bars of soap for washing hands,               
And left behind the merriment
Of their Neverland.

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