Mischief Poem by Jane Taylor
Mischief
Let those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
In harmless sport or healthful play
He did not pass his time away,
Nor took his pleasure in it;
For mischief was his only joy:
No book, or work, or even toy,
Could please him for a minute.
A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass,
And throw a stone to break the glass,
And then enjoy the joke!
Or, if a window open stood,
He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood,
To frighten all the folk.
If travellers passing chanced to stay,
Of idle Jim to ask the way,
He never told them right;
And then, quite harden'd in his sin,
Rejoiced to see them taken in,
And laugh'd with all his might.
He'd tie a string across the street,
Just to entangle people's feet,
And make them tumble down:
Indeed, he was disliked so much,
That no good boy would play with such
A nuisance to the town.
At last the neighbours, in despair,
This mischief would no longer bear:
And so to end the tale,
This lad, to cure him of his ways,
Was sent to spend some dismal days
Within the county jail.
Display of mischief? how softly said, it is misbehaving and bullying neighbours, not giving people good information to continue on their way in this poem by Jane Taylor
2) we can read the unpleasant experiences from her time, as punishment a few days in a country jail. Excellent end rhymes.5 Stars full
Oops! I'll give this poet allowance for some English structure I would change a bit, since she grew up in England and many years ago so must have been proper for her times. ;) bri
Well penned every mischief has a penalty awaiting for it
Overall, I give this poem five stars for its rhyming, humour/humor, and flow. bri : )
Of course, though called my son, he'd probably have been the son of our neighbor Bill, of whom I think my wife had had her fill.
If he'd been my son, that Idle Jim, I'd tan his bottom, or, better still, I might throttle him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/15/2024 7:16:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
lamentation loll Dian lame