James Christopher
or
The Boy, Who Kept Falling Over


James Christopher
wasn't like me
or you.

James Christopher
jumped like a
kangaroo

James Christopher ran
Like Stephenson's
Rocket

James Christopher ran
Like no-one could
Stop it.

James Christopher leapt
As no-one
Could leap

For James Christopher
Even leapt when
Asleep.

James Christopher was a high-speed rover
But James Christopher kept falling over
And though he always got up anew
There was always some little problem,too…

He jumped round the room
And fell over his feet
He jumped out of the house
And fell into the street

He ran into the garden
And fell on the grass
Then ran off the lawn
And fell onto the path.

He leapt on the furniture,
Fell off the bed,
Leapt up and fell off
The sofa instead.

Wherever he went
James Christopher fell
If he walked five steps
He fell ten times, as well
(And ten times as well)

Poor James's mum!
Her hair went grey
With his rushing around
As he went out to play.

Poor James's dad!
His hair went white
Trying to catch his son
In mid-flight.
(It fell out, too. What a sight!)

Poor James's grandma,
As she tried to follow
Careering J.C.
With her legs all a-wobble.

Poor James's granddad,
As he pulled the boy up
With his britches bemuddied
From the recentest flop

They sought the advice
Of a wise man so old
"One day he'll grow out of it"
Was what they were told.

They sought the assistance
Of erudite medics
Whose specialties centred
On pfalovralatympedics

Then they tripped to the witch
At the tip of the hill
(There aren't many left
But this one's there still)

They took young James with them
To show to the crone
As he got to the top
He fell over a stone

And like a cold snowball
He rolled to the bottom
A-crashing through bushes
Through shrubs and through tussocks
And scratching and bashing
His kneecaps and buttocks
Till he stopped on a rock on his bottom.

His parents rushed downward
Crying, "James! Our dear son!
Oh! What has befallen you?
What have you done?"

The witch - who was older
And wiser - had flown
To the base of the hill
On her jet-propelled broom.

One look was enough!
"A slug and a snail
Mixed up with some broccoli
Stirred in a pail

And spread on his feet
- In between his toes, too -
Each time he falls over,
We'll see what that can do!"

Young James he was a-listening
As the crone moaned out her potion
And decided that his little feet
Would not meet with that lotion

So he stood on his feet,
Walked slowly, with care,
Till he felt like a fellow
Who's floating on air,

Glanced down at his feet,
And - what a surprise! -
He was actually flying
In the lambkinny skies!

How long he'd have floated
Like that, no-one knows,
For he tripped on a cloud
And fell flat on his nose.


Written by the boy's father, in desperation, August 4, 1997
(Andy Rouse)
Revised version November 12, 2000