"CHARLEY, THE STORY-TELLER" by ANONYMOUS

CHARLES was a very wayward youth,
Who to his parents ne'er spoke truth.
"It matters not," thought he, "forsooth,
When no one knows; if I tell lies
They are not written in my eyes!"

His mother once some questions asked,
And artful Charles his cunning tasked;
When loud the parrot chuckling cried:
"You little rogue! may woe betide!
For, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

Then from the corner comes the cat,
And gives Mamma a gentle pat:
"Good lady, he's deceiving you."
She purrs aloud, "Mew, mew, mew, mew!
For Charley has been fibbing!"

Down stairs now frightened Charley steals,
As though ten cats were at his heels;
When by his coat Tray seizes him,
And cries: "Bow, wow!" in accents grim,
"Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

Now both with shame and anger red
That e'en the cock and hens upbraid,
He seeks the garden's safe retreat;
But twittering birds there cry: "Tweat, tweat!
Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

He runs at last from out the town,
And near a village sits him down;
But even there a fly soon comes,
Who buzzes round his nose and hums:
"Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

He now the blessed world runs round,
But rest for him is nowhere found;
Go where he will, his ears still greet:
"Mew, mew — bow, wow — buzz, buzz — tweat, tweat!
Fie, Charley, you've been fibbing!"

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