All the children are at home,
Except for John, he went to Rome.
Wants to find luck in gambling or whatever,
But will it ever work out? Never!
“My little friend, you’re very small,
So very small, no good at all!
You need more years in house of mother
And some time later you can rather
Dream of being rich and glorious,
Not remember once, what was.
But now, dear fellow, stick to your chores,
Kill the chickens, feed the horse!”
Now little Johnny was so sure
Of what he wanted and: ” I want more!
Than working outside all day long
Or otherwise humming along
A country song while resting on a bench
And watching over pigs and hence
Being bored for all eternity,
Dreaming of somewhere else to be.
I won’t wait, that will not do,
Not for me, would it for you?”
And all the other could reply,
Was: “That’s crazy, don’t you hear, my
God you’re stubborn, young and dumb,
Don’t even listen to your mum.
It’s dangerous out there, I tell you,
You’re not ready for that, how can you?”
The boy simply turned away,
And went for everything, went for may
Having lots or having none,
An adventurer he now become.
Didn’t listen to the wise advice,
No one before him ever thought twice,
Let keep himself from what he wanted,
Let drag him back by what was granted
As a living, not more, not less,
Secure it is, and not a mess,
But not in any kind adventurous,
For those who allways dreamed of Oz.