Do diddle di do,
  Poor Jim Jay
Got stuck fast
  In Yesterday.
Squinting he was,
  On Cross-legs bent,
Never heeding
  The wind was spent.
Round veered the weathercock,
  The sun drew in -
And stuck was Jim
  Like a rusty pin...
We pulled and we pulled
  From seven till twelve,
Jim, too frightened
  To help himself.
But all in vain.
  The clock struck one,
And there was Jim
  A little bit gone.
At half-past five
  You scarce could see
A glimpse of his flapping
  Handkerchee.
And when came noon,
  And we climbed sky-high,
Jim was a speck
  Slip - slipping by.
Come to-morrow,
  The neighbours say,
He'll be past crying for;
  Poor Jim Jay.