The Lion Hunt
By Phil Hodge
One fine day in early spring
Thorton went a-lion hunting.
He took his trusty twenty-two
And chewing gum so he could chew.
He crept along with steathly tread
As quiet as if he were dead.
The sun was high, the day was hot,
Was he alarmed? Why of course not.
But as the sun began to set
He was by twenty lions beset.
He fought them off; killed all but one
But that one killed poor James Thorton
His body lay for evermore
Upon the decayed jungle floor.
It rotted there, until at last
To dim obscurity it passed.