Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/128

 O diddle di do,
 * Poor Jim Jay

Got stuck fast
 * In Yesterday.

Squinting he was,
 * On cross-legs bent,

Never heeding
 * The wind was spent.

Round veered the weathercock,
 * The sun drew in —

And stuck was Jim
 * Like a rusty pin. . ..

We pulled and we pulled
 * From seven till twelve,

Jim, too frightened
 * To help himself.

But all in vain.
 * The clock struck one,

And there was Jim
 * A little bit gone.

At half-past five
 * You scarce could see

A glimpse of his flapping
 * Handkerchee.