There once was a town, with a forgettable name.
A forgettable place, with folks all the same.
The children stayed home, the dogs didn't bark.
The dustiest place on the block was the park.
The boys played video games, the girls watched TV.
The cats sat and slept, the parents would read.
For years and years this town stayed the same.
Until the arrival of Mr. McClain.
Mr. McClain was a tall man, age sixty or so
Who at six o'clock walked the streets, in sun or in snow.
Each day that he walked, he dressed differently
A bunny, a pirate, a big bumblebee.
The children observed this man night after night
Why he walked they weren't sure, it wasn't quite right.
Then one brave little boy stepped out onto the street
And said, "Why are you walking, dressed up like a tree?"
Then the kind, old man smiled, with a flash in his eye
He said, "Why don't you come see? Come give it a try."
The little boy walked back in his house,
then came back the next day, dressed up like a mouse.
His friends all joined in, dressed up in all sorts.
A princess, a ninja, a witch with a wart.
So the kids walked the streets, but soon lost their breath
These children had never walked so many steps.
But Mr. McClain never faltered, never stopped for a rest
So onward he went, with a shine in his eyes and a hop in his step.
"How do you do it?" asked the kids, their hearts rolled like a drum.
"You never get tired, as far we've come."
"I've practiced for years, since my aged matched a dime.
Practice makes perfect, and perfect takes time."
Everyday new kids came, and the old ones all stayed
and walked with Mr. McClain and The Children's Parade.
"I see!"said a voice at 6:30 one night.
"It's exercise!" the voice cried out with delight.
"Each night that we walk, we walk a bit more," the young boy explained.
"It's because this is exercise! Right, Mr. McClain?"
The kind, old man smiled, his head gave a nod.
"But what of the costumes?" chimed a girl. "They are a bit odd."
"A life lesson I've learned, and follow through to this day,
When life hands you work, make it fun with a game."
Now the children understood the thoughts of Mr. McClain.
His smarts and his wits of his exercise game.
The children went home, and climbed in their beds
an dreamed of new costumes and new games up ahead.
This forgettable town was forgotten no more,
For each night at six, sweet ghosts and small fairies, rushed out their doors.
Because of one thing, this town was never the same:
Mr. McClain and The Children's Parade.
