Old museum
independantly all owned.
Old meseum
chopped apart with an axe.
From blade of halifax
to the noose of gibbet.
Old museum.

My dad owned it,
this joint of Pharoah
with his crooked hat.

Through many years,
the family museum changed hands,
from many adventures afar.
From a Genie in its ancient lamp,
To many other lands of afar.
And we would go out to eat,
From Ethopia to streets of Japan.
From bread for spoons,
to roast beef in the frying pan.
And yet dad kept it hidden,
For many a year, do to lack of interest cleaning.
Or perhaps to avoid the tax collector,
Whom wants his dollars weening.

Old museum
independantly all owned.
Old meseum
chopped apart with an axe.
From blade of halifax
to the noose of gibbet.
Old museum.

My dad owned it,
this joint of Pharoah
with his crooked hat.

And yet it could be so much more,
Like an independant library,
Not a way for Phoroahs to be locked away,
Into ancient history.