The woodlouse looks as if he were A mediæval knight,Who's found it wiser not to keep His armour very bright.
Experience has taught him, too, To curl up like a pillWhen danger seems to threaten him, And then keep very still.
This trick has often been the means Of saving him from hurt;Because his foes mistake him for A little lump of dirt.
Just as the enemy must find Our soldiers hard to seeWhen they are lying on the ground All clad in dull khakí.
