The wandering bell

There was a boy who never wanted

to deign to go to church;

and Sundays always found a way

to go out into the field.

His mother said: the bell is tolling

and so you are ordered,

and if you won't make it your habit,

it will come and fetch you.

The child, it thought: the bell hangs

high up there in the belfry.

And already he was off to the field,

as if he had just been let out of school.

The bell, the bell chimed no longer,

Mother was just stalling him.

But what a horror behind him!

The bell was coming waddling after him.

It waddled quickly, one could hardly believe it;

the poor child was in terror.

He ran and ran as if in a nightmare;

the bell was going to swallow him whole.

But he makes a good dart for it,

and with agile speed,

hurries through meadow, field and bush

to the church, to the chapel.

And every Sunday and Holiday

he thinks about his misdeed,

and at the first toll of the bell,

he does not allow it to summon him in person.