Do 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. And when came noon, And we climbed sky-high, Jim was a speck Slip -- slipping by. Come to-morrow, The neighbours say, He'll be past crying for: Poor Jim Jay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROGRESS OF POETRY; A VARIATION by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE OLD VIOLIN by MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN THE VALLEY'S SINGING DAY by ROBERT FROST PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 68. AL-KADAR by EDWIN ARNOLD THE LADY TO HER GUITAR by EMILY JANE BRONTE |