Let those who're fond of idle tricks, <br />Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks, <br />And all that sort of fun, <br />Now hear a tale of idle Jim, <br />That warning they may take by him, <br />Nor do as he has done. <br /> <br />In harmless sport or healthful play <br />He did not pass his time away, <br />Nor took his pleasure in it; <br />For mischief was his only joy: <br />No book, or work, or even toy, <br />Could please him for a minute. <br /> <br />A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass, <br />And throw a stone to break the glass, <br />And then enjoy the joke! <br />Or, if a window open stood, <br />He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood, <br />To frighten all the folk. <br /> <br />If travellers passing chanced to stay, <br />Of idle Jim to ask the way, <br />He never told them right; <br />And then, quite harden'd in his sin, <br />Rejoiced to see them taken in, <br />And laugh'd with all his might. <br /> <br />He'd tie a string across the street, <br />Just to entangle people's feet, <br />And make them tumble down: <br />Indeed, he was disliked so much, <br />That no good boy would play with such <br />A nuisance to the town. <br /> <br />At last the neighbours, in despair, <br />This mischief would no longer bear: <br />And so to end the tale, <br />This lad, to cure him of his ways, <br />Was sent to spend some dismal days <br />Within the county jail.<br /><br />Jane Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mischief/
