I think he’s judge of all the rest,
My friend, the solemn frog;
He’s judge of all the water things,
The skimming bugs with dripping wings,
The turtle on the log;
He sits upon a lily pad
And if he ever sees them bad
With sternness he will say:
“Go hide among the darkest weeds
Down deep, among the dungeon reeds,
And there repent your wicked deeds,
Away, young thing, away!”
