Chapter 47 of 247 · 61 words · ~1 min read

LXXVIII.

Our saucy boy Dick, Had a nice little stick Cut from a hawthorn tree; And with this pretty stick, He thought he could beat A boy much bigger than he.

But the boy turned round, And hit him a rebound, Which did so frighten poor Dick, That, without more delay, He ran quite away, And over a hedge he jumped quick.