The box of war!

A long time ago in the land of hushabye
Around about the wondrous days of yore
There came across a sort of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And lableled, “Kindly do not touch. It's war.”

A cree was issued roundabout with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lively on before
“Don't fiddle with this deadly box
Or break the chains or pick the locks.
And please don't ever play about with war.”

Well, the children understood,
'Cuz children happen to be good
They were just as good around the time of yore
Mommies didn't either, sisters, aunts, grannies neither
'Cuz they were quiet and sweet and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore

But someone did, someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor
A sort of bouncy bumpy ball made of guns
And flags and all the tears and horror
And death that goes with war

It bounced right out and went bashing all about
Bumping into everything in store
And what was sad and most unfair
Is that it didn't really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for

It bumped the children mainly and I'll tell you quite plainly
It bumps them every day and more and more
It leaves them dead and burned and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying
'Cuz when it bumps, it's really very sore

Now there's a way to stop the ball it isn't difficult at all
All it takes is wisdom and I'm absolutely sure
That we could get it back into the box
And bind the chains and lock the locks
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore

Well, that's the way it all appears
'Cuz it's been bouncing round for years and years
In spite of all that wisdom wiz since those wondrous days of yore
From the time they came across the box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labled, “Kindly do not touch. It's war.”

Author Unknown