THE SWEET TOOTH

Alas poor Fred! So fat is he, Only a pig could fatter be.

A SWEET-TOOTH was our Frederick. He scorned the bread and meat And all the other wholesome things That children ought to eat. He ate the sugar from the bowl; He fed on cakes and pies, The very sight of lollipops Brought water to his eyes. He grew too fat to play about, Too fat to run or jump, On either side his arms stuck out Like handles of a pump.

It grieved his kind mamma to see How fat and fatter grew Her little Fred, in spite of all That she could say or do. One day, with pennies in his hand He set out for a shop, To buy himself some sugar-cakes Or tart or lollipop.

But oh the day was very hot, The sun a fiery ball, And soon the heat made Fred so soft He scarce could walk at all. “Oh dear, oh dear! I feel so queer; What’s happening?” cried he. “If I should melt in all this heat How dreadful it would be!”

It is a sorry tale to tell, But greedy ones take heed! Fred’s arms and legs and all of him Were melting down indeed. They melted till you scarce could tell Fred was a boy at all, For now he looked all smooth and round As though he were a ball.

That afternoon the girls and boys Came running out to play, And wondering they gathered round The place where Frederick lay. “Oh what a great enormous ball! ”Let’s play with it,“ they cried; And then they rolled and pushed poor Fred About from side to side.

Hither and yon, in giddy round The wretched Frederick sped, And sometimes he was on his heels, And sometimes on his head. At supper time the mothers called, “Now put your ball away. To-morrow you can get it out And have another play.” Ah Frederick, poor Frederick! Though he lay quiet now He could not even lift his hand To wipe his heated brow, And now each day they came to play With Fred, until at last His fat began to wear away They rolled him round so fast.

The disappointed children said, “Someone has spoiled our ball. It’s growing such a funny shape It scarcely rolls at all.” One time when they had stopped to rest Fred’s little brother said, “It’s queer, but don’t you think our ball Looks very much like Fred?”

“Why it is Fred,” his sister cried. “I know his eyes and nose. And only see! Those are his hands, And down there are his toes.” They called his mother out to see. With eager steps she came, At once she knew her Frederick, And called him by his name.

And now he found that he could turn, That he could move and rise. He stood before his mother With shamed and tearful eyes. “Oh, mother, mother, dear, I’ve had A dreadful time!” cried he, “But now that I’m a boy again Less greedy I will be.”