Page 162—Doggy Land

Old Mother Hubbard and Her Dog

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor Dog a bone;
But when she got there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor Dog had none.
She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread,
And when she came back
The poor Dog looked dead.
She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin,
But when she came back
The poor Dog was laughing.
She took a clean dish
To get him some tripe,
But when she came back
He was smoking a pipe.
She went to the ale-house
To get him some beer,
But when she came back
The Dog sat on a chair.
She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat,
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig,
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the fruiterer's
To buy him some fruit,
But when she came back
He was playing the flute.
She went to the tailor's,
To buy him a coat,
But when she came back
He was riding a goat.
She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen,
But when she came back
The Dog was a-spinning.
She went to the hosier's
To buy him some hose,
But when she came back
He was dressed in his clothes.
She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes,
But when she came back
He was reading the news.
She went to the hotel
To get him some ale,
But when she came back,
He was wagging his tail.
She went to the tavern
For white wine and red,
But when she came back
The Dog stood on his head.
The dame made a curtsey,
The Dog made a bow;
The dame said "Your servant,"
The Dog said "Bow-wow."
This wonderful Dog
Was Dame Hubbard's delight;
He could sing, he could dance,
He could read, he could write.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him a book,
And when she came back
He at once took a look.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book two,
And when she came back
He was tying his shoe.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book three,
And when she came back
He getting his tea.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book four,
And when she came back
He sat at the door.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book five,
And when she came back
He was out for a drive.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book six
And when she came back
He was picking up sticks.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book seven,
And when she came back
He was brewing some leaven.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book eight,
And when she came back
He was baking a cake.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book nine,
And when she came back
He said it was fine.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book ten,
And when she came back
He took it an then
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book eleven,
And when she came back
He had gone up to heaven.
To Parents And Schoolmasters
I have been blamed for printing and distributing "Mother Hubbard." My answer is:—"Old Mother Hubbard" has done more towards the education of young children than perhaps any piece of reading in existence. Amongst the hundreds of millions of English speaking people in all parts of the earth, there are very few but can repeat a part or the whole of "Mother Hubbard," and I have seen it somewhat asserted that it is to be found in almost every home in the civilised world. Its rude style of poetry tells nothing against it. The child knows nothing of correct metre: as long as there is a jingling rhyme it is satisfied. The dog is the domestic animal in millions of families, and in numberless cases is actually a more loved companion then brothers and sisters. A simple rhyme, therefore, about this attached, playful, and constant companion is sure to fascinate the young, and it has fascinated more than a thousand millions of the little dears. I firmly believe that it would produce grand results if a pretty illustrated edition of the principal nursery rhymes were made a text-book in infant schools. You may try, and try, and try again, to drive an ordinary dry school-book lesson into the infant mind, and make very little progress—it is up-hill work. But take an illustrated edition of a nursery rhyme, say the "Death of Cock Robin," or "Mother Hubbard," and call the little one to you, begin to teach it—how eagerly, how intently does it begin to learn now! What animation in its little eyes! What music in its little, joyous, interested voice! It learns this lesson ten times as fast as the other one, and gives you ten times the pleasure in teaching it, and this kind of teaching gradually and insensibly leads the child into a love of learning: it interests and sets the young inquiring mind at work. We all know how much easier it is to do a work we are interested in than a work we are not. It is just so with the child, and for that reason I would commence to teach the infant mind with that which pleased it best, and so gradually create a love for reading. For years I have allowed numbers of little children, of their own accord, to stand and read nursery rhymes to themselves, and to teach other youths to read interesting and instructive fiction, gratis, in the Book Arcade; and I hold that, by its enticingly creating a love for reading, which will lead to something higher, time is one of the best and most effective schools in the country. —E. W. Cole

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