
I’ve written, several times, of those
who guzzle glue or pick their nose
of kids who are unkind to beasts
or think each snack should be a feast
This blog is a menagerie
of nasty creatures such as these
So now I’d like to turn my pen
to nicer folk, but then again
I fear you wouldn’t care to read
a story full of worthy deeds
of kindness and of manners mild
you much prefer the awful child
but just read on and you will see
how such a thing as honesty
can bring you to a horrid end
upon my word you can depend
Now, Simon was a lovely boy
he brought his parents so much joy
polite and thoughtful, full of fun
thought highly of by everyone
and that’s the context of this verse
it sounds quite nice, it gets MUCH worse!
one day as Simon sat in church
he saw a plaque carved out of birch
“one lie does one more lie beget
we haven’t seen the last one yet”
That’s how the plaque’s inscription read
it sank into our Simon’s head
and so he swore “Me, Simon, I
will never, ever, EVER lie
I swear by Jesus in his crib
to never tell another fib”
so, as he walked home after mass
he came upon a little lass
Well, “little’s” not the thing I mean
for “young” is better, as this scene
will show, I’m sure you will agree
What happened next? listen to me:
“Hello Jill” our Simon said
“you’re very fat, for just your head
must weigh about a half a ton
good day!” he said and walked right on
“I didn’t lie, hurrah for me!
I am as honest as can be!”
that’s what that silly Simon thought
but then he met a Mrs Short
“Hello” sang Simon, clear and bright
“you really are a shocking sight
your nose is just a bunch of warts
and why must people put on shorts
when they have dreadful pudgy thighs?
your choice of clothes is most unwise!”
“Good day!” said Simon, on he strolled
all puffed up, proud, for he’d not told
a single fib, the smallest lie
and though he’d made two people cry
he would not stop, he couldn’t see
how hurtful telling truths can be
he told poor Sally that she stank
“your odour and your breath are rank”
and Milly learned her bum was big
dear Mrs Brown looked “like a pig”
the twins were told their ears stuck out
their mother’s lips looked “like a trout’s”
he carried on throughout the town
from half past twelve until sun-down
and nobody escaped the truth
not Billy, Jenny, Fred or Ruth
not Hattie, Kelly, John or Jake
they begged him “please, for pity’s sake
just stop your mouth and save our hurt
you better had, you little squirt!”
‘til finally they’d had enough
and so a local pair of toughs
picked up a cane, a cricket bat
for everyone decided that
they’d have to spank the nasty brat
“We’ll smack that bottom ‘til it’s FLAT!”
We’ll teach the boy that it’s no crime
to hide the truth from time to time!”
So Simon didn’t feel so proud
when cornered by this seething crowd
of red-faced, screeching, fuming folk
who hadn’t liked the truths he spoke
He ran, they chased, he tried to flee
but when they cried out “where is he?”
he shouted back “I’m up this tree!
I’ll always tell the truth you see!”
oh what a stupid so and so
he’d sworn an oath to truth, you know
he couldn’t lie to save his skin
despite the trouble he was in
but, luckily, his mum came by
and made the boy confess and cry:
“I swear, I do, I will refrain
from stating that which causes pain!”
and with this vow the mob concurred
to take our Simon at his word
and since that day he hasn’t said
a nasty word, but knows instead
that truth will never cause offence
when softened with a pinch of sense
Paul Hughes 2008