Treasure Island

It was the month of May,
I was walking along a bay,
Suddenly I found a hidden way,
At the end of which, a box lay.

Remembering a story my mama told
Imagined it to be full of gold,
Made myself a bit more bold,
But still my hands were very cold.

Buried in some stones the box was laid,
Dug it out with my spade,
Cut it open with my blade,
With cardboard it was made.

The box was light, but hard,
Coated with a little lard,
Opened it up taking guard,
In it I found my brothers report card.