The poem
Old Mr. Philosopher Comes for Ben and Claire, An ugly man, a tall man, With bright-red hair.
The books that he's written No one can read. "In fifty years they'll understand: Now there's no need.
"All that matters now Is getting the fun. Come along, Ben and Claire; Plenty to be done."
Then old Philosopher, Wisest man alive, Plays at Lions and Tigers Down along the drive-
Gambolling fiercely Through bushes and grass, Making monstrous mouths, Braying like an ass
Twisting buttercups In his orange hair, Hopping like a kangaroo, Growling like a bear.
Right up to tea-time They frolic there. "My legs are wingle," Says Ben to Claire.