I had a cap gun when I was a kid,
Its shiny imitation nickel was a sight.
Staring back when you lifted the toy box lid,
It was, after all, so very bright.
Pick a side and maybe roll in the dirt,
Cop and robber or Indian and Cowboy.
We knew nobody would actually get hurt,
It was, after all, just a toy.
If you ran out of caps that was okay,
It made a cool sound just the same.
We didn't really need them anyway,
It was, after all, just a game.
Our kids don't know of the times we had,
And our fun we don't even mention.
You can't let them have it and be a good Dad,
It was, after all, for the children.
The moral of my story is a trip,
A possibility of a child's playful outing.
For if they have a gun without a plastic tip,
It was, after all, an accidental shooting. 