The Wager

‘Twas the summer season
In the great Indian plains.
The heat was unforgiving
In every town and village.

On one such lazy afternoon
In the village of Nenaanoo,
Little Jon and his pals, too
Wondered what to do.

It was too hot to play ball
Or Chupa chupi or Pithoo
Or Gilli Danda or Kho kho
Or Five Stones or Lattoo.

Soon, they started arguing
About who was more clever.
And in the heat of the moment,
The lads agreed to a wager.

The target was a mango tree
Owned by the uppity Mr. Wick.
It was guarded by ol’ Kenie
Who carried a wooden stick.

The tree was heavily laden
With mangoes ripe and golden
Whoever picked five of them
Would be the cleverest one.

And so they crept to the tree.
In silence, the race began.
They heard ol’ Kenie snoring
And soon climbed up a branch.

But ol’ Kenie wasn’t asleep,
He woke up with a loud snort.
And he started chasing them,
So the plan they had to abort.

Down the tree, they all leapt
And scrambled to run away.
But they all stumbled and fell,
As they got in each other’s way.

And so it was as the Sun set,
They returned black and blue.
For ol’ Kenie had caught them
And given them a thrashing, too.

That’s how the story ended
Of Little Jon and his friends.
They never laid a wager again
In the heat of the moment.