Following on from my last post, and for those of you who do not know Hillaire Belloc's work, here is my favourite poem of all time, one that was first heard when it was read by the deputy headmaster of my infant / junior school during many school assemblies:Matilda
Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death
Matilda told such dreadful lies,
It made one gasp and stretch one's eyes;
Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth,
Had kept a strict regard for truth,
Attempted to believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not she
Discovered this infirmity.
For once, towards the close of day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the telephone
And summoned the immediate aid
Of London's noble fire-brigade.
Within the hour the gallant band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow,
With courage high and hearts a-glow
They galloped, roaring through the town,
"Matilda's house is burning down!"
Inspired by British cheers and loud
Proceeding from the frenzied crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the ball room floor;
And took peculiar pains to souse
The pictures up and down the house,
Until Matilda's aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed
And even then she had to pay
To get the men to go away!
. . . . . . . . .
It happened that a few weeks later
her aunt was off to the theatre
To see that interesting play
The Second Mrs Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her niece
To hear this entertaining piece:
A deprivation just and wise
To punish her for telling lies.
That night a fire did break out -
You should have heard Matilda shout!
You should have heard her scream and bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To people passing in the street -
(The rapidly increasing heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidence) - but all in vain!
For every time she shouted "Fire!"
They only answered "Little Liar!"
And therefore when her aunt returned,
Matilda, and the house, were burned.
