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      And is it True? It is not True.

      And if it were it wouldn't do,

      For people such as me and you

      Who pretty nearly all day long

      Are doing something rather wrong.

      Because if things were really so,

      You would have perished long ago,

      And I would not have lived to write

      The noble lines that meet your sight,

      Nor B. T. B. survived to draw

      The nicest things you ever saw.

      H. B.

      Jim,

      Who ran away from his Nurse, and was eaten by a Lion.

      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 inside,

      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 Fate

      Befell him, which I now relate.

      You know—at least you ought to know.

      For I have often told you so—

      That Children never are allowed

      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 day

      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 eat

      The Boy: beginning at his feet.

      Now just imagine how it feels

      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 ran

      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!

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