The Lion

A poem by Oliver Herford

The Lion does not move at all,
Winter or Summer, Spring or Fall,
He does not even stretch or yawn,
But lies in silence on the lawn.

He must be lazy it is plain,
For there is moss upon his mane,
And what is more, a pair of Daws
Have built a nest between his paws.

Oh, Lazy Lion, big and brown,
This is no time for lying down!
The Sun is shining, can't you see?
Oh, please wake up and play with me.

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