Hilaire Belloc.  Jim, Who Ran Away From His Nurse And Was Eaten By A Lion.

Hilaire Belloc. Jim, Who Ran Away From His Nurse And Was Eaten By A Lion.

Author: Poetry from the Jungle from The Ceylon Press January 18, 2025 Duration: 3:05

There was a Boy whose name was Jim;
His Friends were very good to him.
They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,
And slices of delicious Ham,
And Chocolate with pink inside
And little Tricycles to ride,
And read him Stories through and through,
And even took him to the Zoo--
But there it was the dreadful Fate
Befell him, which I now relate.

You know--or at least you ought to know,
For I have often told you so--
That Children never are allowed
To leave their Nurses in a Crowd;
Now this was Jim's especial Foible,
He ran away when he was able,
And on this inauspicious day
He slipped his hand and ran away!

He hadn't gone a yard when--Bang!
With open Jaws, a lion sprang,
And hungrily began to eat
The Boy: beginning at his feet.
Now, just imagine how it feels
When first your toes and then your heels,
And then by gradual degrees,
Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,
Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.
No wonder Jim detested it!
No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!''

The Honest Keeper heard his cry,
Though very fat he almost ran
To help the little gentleman.
``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came
(For Ponto was the Lion's name),
``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown,
``Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!''
The Lion made a sudden stop,
He let the Dainty Morsel drop,
And slunk reluctant to his Cage,
Snarling with Disappointed Rage.
But when he bent him over Jim,
The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim.
The Lion having reached his Head,
The Miserable Boy was dead!

When Nurse informed his Parents, they
Were more Concerned than I can say:--
His Mother, as She dried her eyes,
Said, ``Well--it gives me no surprise,
He would not do as he was told!''
His Father, who was self-controlled,
Bade all the children round attend
To James's miserable end,
And always keep a-hold of Nurse
For fear of finding something worse.


There's a particular magic in the poem that almost made it, the one that lingers just outside the canonical spotlight. 101 Exiles from The Ceylon Press is a quiet space dedicated to those verses. Each episode of this Poetry from the Jungle podcast is a curated listening experience, focusing on a single, remarkable work by an acclaimed poet that, for whatever reason, never quite cracked the ubiquitous "top 100" lists. You won't find grand introductions or academic dissections here. Instead, the focus is on the language itself-the rhythm, the imagery, the quiet turn of phrase that deserves a moment of undivided attention. It's for anyone who believes the most resonant lines are sometimes found in the margins, offering a different kind of discovery in the world of verse. This podcast provides a sanctuary for those exiled poems, letting them speak for themselves directly to the listener.
Author: Language: English Episodes: 32

101 Exiles
Podcast Episodes
Hilaire Belloc.  John Vavasour de Quentin Jones. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 3:51
John Vavasour de Quentin Joneswas very fond of throwing stoneslike many of the upper classhe loved the sound of breaking glass( a line I stole with subtle daringfrom Wing Commander Maurice Baring)
Philip Larkin.  Talking In Bed. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:30
Talking in bed ought to be easiest,Lying together there goes back so far,An emblem of two people being honest.Yet more and more time passes silently.Outside, the wind's incomplete unrestBuilds and disperses clouds in the…
John Betjeman.  Upper Lambourne. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:51
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy,Up the ivy climbs the sun,With a twenty-thousand pattering,Has a valley breeze begun,Feathery ash, neglected elder,Shift the shade and make it run -Shift the shade toward the nettles,And th…
Philip Larkin.  An Arundel Tomb. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:49
Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone, Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat, And that faint hint of the absurd— The little dogs under their feet.Such plainn…
C. P. Cavafy.  The God Abandons Antony. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:44
When suddenly, at midnight, you hearan invisible procession going bywith exquisite music, voices,don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,work gone wrong, your plansall proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.As one…
Philip Larkin.  The North Ship. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:54
I saw three ships go sailing by,Over the sea, the lifting sea,And the wind rose in the morning sky,And one was rigged for a long journey.The first ship turned towards the west,Over the sea, the running sea,And by the win…
John Betjeman.  Late Flowering Lust. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:56
My head is bald, my breath is bad, Unshaven is my chin,I have not now the joys I had When I was young in sin.I run my fingers down your dress With brandy-certain aimAnd you respond to my caress And maybe feel the same.Bu…
C. P. Cavafy.   Days Of 1903. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:08
I never found them again—all lost so quickly...the poetic eyes, the pale face...in the darkening street... I never found them again—mine entirely by chance,and so easily given up,then longed for so painfully.The poetic e…
Philip Larkin.  To The Sea. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:55
To step over the low wall that dividesRoad from concrete walk above the shoreBrings sharply back something known long before –The miniature gaiety of seasides.Everything crowds under the low horizon:Steep beach, blue wat…
C. P. Cavafy.     Remember, Body. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:15
Body, remember not only how much you were loved, not only the beds on which you lay, but also those desires which for you plainly glowed in the eyes, and trembled in the voice -- and some chance obstacle made them futile…