There was little Willie Browning, the worst of all the boys
Who had a sure-nuff cannon that made all kinds of noise;
And when the cannon wouldn't go he blew into the muzzle,
But what became of Willie's teeth has always been a puzzle.
How the folks looked askance
At the seats of our pants,
When those giant skyrockets
Went off in our pockets!
Gee whiz!
What fun the Fourth is!