Paul slaved away real late.
Paul worked hard all summer,
baking cakes instead.
And it's no lie,
he piled them high,
real far above his head.
Then, when he had finished -
just one more cake to place.
Climbed to the top
with skip and hop,
big smile upon his face.
Stepping out so proudly,
pavola in his hand.
The top cake slipped,
and poor Paul tripped,
came crashing down to land.
I hope this tale might teach us;
be a lesson for us all.
Roll or cake,
make no mistake:
pride cometh before a fall.
You really are a silly boy,
trying to scratch your back like that.
May as well give up right now,
you really are just far too fat.
There was a young lad from Loch Neathers
Who hid himself deep in the heathers
Ate a swallow that passed
Right down to the last
And now he is pooping out feathers
Crazy Lilly from old Hong Kong
had let her nails grow far too long,
