When Chris was six,
and I was eight
My brother threw his shoe
at a pride of lions
Eating a gazelle.
Now my parents
were quite poor
So my dad had to open
the VW beatle door
And, leaning
On the handle,
He stetched out
His long and freckled arm
To get back the sandle.
But without much luck,
It lay right next to a lions tail.
And Dad's bravery
Wavered, then failed.
So, Dad closed the door
And he shouted.
Chris!
Hells bells!
Don't throw your shoes at lions eating gazelles!
And this lesson,
I am glad to say,
Chris has carried with him
To this very day.
And the last thing
That you'll ever see him do,
Is disturb lions
When they're eating,
By throwing his shoe.
and I was eight
My brother threw his shoe
at a pride of lions
Eating a gazelle.
Now my parents
were quite poor
So my dad had to open
the VW beatle door
And, leaning
On the handle,
He stetched out
His long and freckled arm
To get back the sandle.
But without much luck,
It lay right next to a lions tail.
And Dad's bravery
Wavered, then failed.
So, Dad closed the door
And he shouted.
Chris!
Hells bells!
Don't throw your shoes at lions eating gazelles!
And this lesson,
I am glad to say,
Chris has carried with him
To this very day.
And the last thing
That you'll ever see him do,
Is disturb lions
When they're eating,
By throwing his shoe.
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