Augustus was a chubby lad;
Fat, ruddy cheeks Augustus had;
And everybody saw with joy
The plump and heart, healthy boy,
He ate and drank as he was told
And never let his soup get cold.

But one day, on cold winter’s day
He screamed out-‘Take the soup away:
Oh, take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup today.’

Next day begins his tale of woes,
Quite lank and lean Augustus grows,
Yet though he feels so weak and ill,
The naughty fellow cries out still-
‘Not any soup for me I say:
Oh, take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup today.’

The third day comes; oh’ what a sin!
To make himself so pale and thin.
Yet, when the soup is put on table,
He screams as loud as he is abler,-
‘Not any soup for me, I saw:
Oh take the nasty soup away!
I won’t have any soup to-day.’

Look at him, now the fourth’s day’s come!
He scarcely weighs a sugar-plum;
He’s like a little bit of thread
And on the fifth day he was dead!