Some years ago you heard me sing <br />My doubts on Alexander Byng. <br />His sister Sarah now inspires <br />My jaded Muse, my failing fires. <br />Of Sarah Byng the tale is told <br />How when the child was twelve years old <br />She could not read or write a line. <br />Her sister Jane, though barely nine, <br />Could spout the Catechism through <br />And parts of Matthew Arnold too, <br />While little Bill who came between <br />Was quite unnaturally keen <br />On 'Athalie', by Jean Racine. <br />But not so Sarah! Not so Sal! <br />She was a most uncultured girl <br />Who didn't care a pinch of snuff <br />For any literary stuff <br />And gave the classics all a miss. <br />Observe the consequence of this! <br />As she was walking home one day, <br />Upon the fields across her way <br />A gate, securely padlocked, stood, <br />And by its side a piece of wood <br />On which was painted plain and full, <br />BEWARE THE VERY FURIOUS BULL <br />Alas! The young illiterate <br />Went blindly forward to her fate, <br />And ignorantly climbed the gate! <br />Now happily the Bull that day <br />Was rather in the mood for play <br />Than goring people through and through <br />As Bulls so very often do; <br />He tossed her lightly with his horns <br />Into a prickly hedge of thorns, <br />And stood by laughing while she strode <br />And pushed and struggled to the road. <br />The lesson was not lost upon <br />The child, who since has always gone <br />A long way round to keep away <br />From signs, whatever they may say, <br />And leaves a padlocked gate alone. <br />Moreover she has wisely grown <br />Confirmed in her instinctive guess <br />That literature breeds distress.<br /><br />Hilaire Belloc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sarah-byng-who-could-not-read-and-was-tossed-into-a-thorny-hedge-by-a-bull/
