Oscar was a little lad who didn’t answer back,
So when they gave him double beans at Maisie’s Luncheon Shack,
He ate them up without a word and ate up all his seconds,
And held his bowl up out for more whenever Maisie beckoned.
That night, at home, at time for tea, Mum served him mushy peas,
Instead of normal cheese and ham that’d graced a hundred teas,
And then they had stewed figs and cream and day-old rhubarb tart,
And by the time for Oscar’s bed he really had to fart.
He held it in, he tried his best, but, alas, it wasn’t to be,
He blew the duvet off his bed and floated out to sea,
And they still see him, now and then, against the autumn moon,
And old men say, there goes that lad who ate the beans last June.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved