Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
The whistler was a policeman
He whistled when he wrote a ticket
One citizen was so incensed
He told the officer to stick it.
But the officer understood.
He had heard complaints before.
They seemed to miss the point
As what this whistling was for.

They didn’t realize that he
Whistled as well when nervous.
He monitored himself carefully
When he was in the service.
War is often no kind of place
To be making unwitting noise.
He was reprimanded by
The officer and the boys.

But Sam, the whistling cop
Had done so all his life
He whistled different ways
Even like a sailor’s fife.
He could trill like a bird
And do the best of all;
That kind of whistle
That wonderful taxi call.

It was an amazing to hear;
He could whistle too
From the side of his face
So you had no idea who
Was making that music
As his lips were not pursed.
That made it more maddening
To a few people that cursed.

As part of his job, one day,
A hotelier called him in
To deal with the issue
Of a dead resident within.
Sam hated blood and death.
It made him quite queasy.
So, he went about this task
But for him, it was not easy.

With a dead body in his arms
Quaking with internal fear
The hotelier objected to his song
Sam asked what he wanted to hear.
He was whistling The Blue Waltz’
In his pitch perfect rendition
To keep his mind off of the corpse
And off of his own condition.

But, oh boy, could he whistle
Making music in every day.
Creating lasting memories
I recall up until this day.
That officer, Sam, you see
Too often in a spot of bother
Was known as Whistling Sam
And was also my father.
When I am all grown up
There's lots that I can be
A million different choices
And the choice is up to me

I can be a fireman
And drive a truck all painted red
I can work inside a kitchen
And make sure that folks get fed

I can be a sailor
And sail from sea to sea
I have a million different choices
And the choice is up to me

I can be a teacher,
and teach children to write
Or I can be a singer
And sing on stage each night

A footballer, a builder
or a worker in a zoo
It's up to me exactly what
job that I will do

A dancer, or a dentist
A scientist or vet
It's up to me and no one else
What kind of job I'll get

A painter, or an acrobat
A lifeguard on the beach
I can be an astronaut
And to the stars I'll reach

I can be most anything
There's lot's that I can be
There's so much for me out there
The choice is up to me

I can drive a race car
Let my imagination soar
This is just a short list
There's a million, million more

I can be most anything
There's a lot out there for me
For I am just beginning
And there's lots that I can be

An astronaut, a soldier

— The End —