Never be dainty and throw food away;
'Tis sinful, as you must have heard many say;
Besides, you yourself may require food some day,
Though well fed.
So don't smell your plate and turn over your food,
And doubt if it's wholesome, or pleasant, or good;
Such conduct is not only senseless,--but rude
And ill-bred.
There was a young boy, who so dainty became,
That whether his dinner was fish, flesh or game,
He turned up his nose at them all, just the same,
And would cry,
"I cannot eat this,"--and, "I do not like that;"--
"This chicken's too lean,"--and "That mutton's too fat;
The dog he may eat it up all, or the cat,
But not I.
The consequence was that he soon became thin;
His bones they stuck out, and his cheeks they sunk in,
And his hands were not stronger nor thicker than tin,
If so strong.
And his legs grew as slender as little hat-pegs,
And almost as small was his waist as his legs;
And he looked like the laths that are fastened round kegs,
Thin and long.
And thinner, and thinner, and thinner he grew,
A shadow had been rather fat, of the two;
In fact, you might easily look him right through,
If you tried.
And when he was quite the skeleton grown,
As weak as a reed, and as cold as a stone
He fell all to pieces, and with a faint groan,
So he died.