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Jim

There was a Boy whose name was Jim;

His Friends were very good to him.

They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,

And slices of delicious Ham,

And Chocolate with pink

And little Tricycles to ride,

And read him Stories through and through,

And even took him to the Zoo—But there it was the dreadful

Befell him, which I now relate.

You know—or at least you ought to know,

For I have often told you so—That Children never are

To leave their Nurses in a Crowd;

Now this was Jim's especial Foible,

He ran away when he was able,

And on this inauspicious

He slipped his hand and ran away!

He hadn't gone a yard when—Bang!

With open Jaws, a lion sprang,

And hungrily began to

The Boy: beginning at his feet.

Now, just imagine how it

When first your toes and then your heels,

And then by gradual degrees,

Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,

Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.

No wonder Jim detested it!

No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!''The Honest Keeper heard his cry,

Though very fat he almost

To help the little gentleman.``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came(For Ponto was the Lion's name),``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown,``Let go,

Sir!

Down,

Sir!

Put it down!''The Lion made a sudden stop,

He let the Dainty Morsel drop,

And slunk reluctant to his Cage,

Snarling with Disappointed Rage.

But when he bent him over Jim,

The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim.

The Lion having reached his Head,

The Miserable Boy was dead!

When Nurse informed his Parents,

Were more Concerned than I can say:—His Mother, as She dried her eyes,

Said, ``Well—it gives me no surprise,

He would not do as he was told!''His Father, who was self-controlled,

Bade all the children round

To James's miserable end,

And always keep a-hold of

For fear of finding something worse.

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Hilaire Belloc

Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc (27 July 1870[1] – 16 July 1953) was a British-French writer and historian and one of the most prolific writer…

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