Thee tales of the - gasoline sun.

There was a time back in the day,
When the cow,
jumped over the moon,
T'was as i recall that a little dog laughed,
T'was all in good fun,
But now,
Since retired handed the job over to his son,
Who decided in anger,
to set fire to the sun,
Little black sheep his partners in crime,
Pistols of gasoline they did aim,
Cowardly hiding behind his father's fame,
" I am not the chosen one,
He said",
As they set fire to the sun,
Since now the laughing dog is dead,
No longer in friendship - the dish or the spoon,
It's just a ball of deep blue matter,
Within the sky - afternoon,
But who now should jump over this matter,
Maybe Alice and the insane - Mad Hatter,
The story is yet to be told,
As my father the cow is now to old,
The cat no longer plays that fiddle,
He has grandchildren they are so little,
What is a story without a fiddle,
I just can't seem to solve this riddle,
To much fame to live up too,
My father now retired from the moon,
T'was this night upon evening matter,
My heart desired the stars a scatter,
Within my anger i did display a burning flame within the sun,
T'was how the story had begun,
Thee tales of the,
gasoline sun