Old Mr. Philosopher
Comes for Ben and Claire,
An ugly man, a tall man,
With bright-red hair.
The books that hes written
No one can read.
In fifty years theyll understand:
Now theres no need.
All that matters now
Is getting the fun.
Come along, Ben and Claire;
Plenty to be done.
Then old Philosopher,
Wisest man alive,
Plays at Lions and Tigers
Down along the drive
Gambolling fiercely
Through bushes and grass,
Making monstrous mouths,
Braying like an ass
Twisting buttercups
In his orange hair,
Hopping like a kangaroo,
Growling like a bear.
Right up to tea-time
They frolic there.
My legs are wingle,
Says Ben to Claire.
