Thoughts of a Little Wench


I once asked myself if I still could trust those grown-ups
Who loudly say with conceit that they are always right
Who discard opinions of those little lambs and pups
And who reckon that they're walking in the path of light.

I wonder why those people kill themselves with studies
They stock brains with much knowledge and don't care if they burst
When I asked one 'bout Bible, he gazed queerly at his buddies
They haven't time for God's Word, I presume it is the worst.

I wonder why they ask me 'bout my untouched appearance
"Put on nice dresses and makeup for your face flaws to hide."
I asked them back what they'd say if God asked them for instance,
"My child, I made you beautiful; why aren't you satisfied?"

I wonder why those people do all that they can for money
I asked a man and he answered, "It makes the world go round!"
With all those riches I frankly asked him, "Are you really happy?"
His face showed hesitation; he walked away and made no sound.

I wonder why those people please themselves with fornication
They haphazardly told me, "Lust is love and love is lust;
A child like you won't understand, concentrate on education!"
I know that they're two different things; their hearts are full of rust.

I wonder why grown-ups value matters of consequence
I ponder 'bout those conducts as I sit here on this bench
They think I'm too young to understand and have common sense
They scorn me for my beliefs and call me "The Little Wench".

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