Page 28—Ruby Cole And Her Clever Frog

What Our Ruby Did
She danced like a Fairy,
She sung like a Frog,
She squeaked like a Pig,
She barked like a dog.
Oh yes! Oh yes! She did! She Did!
And Frog-gy played a tune.
She mooed like a Bullock,
She baaed like a Ram,
She leaped like a Goat,
She skipped like a Lamb—Oh yes!
She brayed like a Donkey,
She cried like a Hare,
She neighed like a Horse,
She growled like a Bear!—Oh yes!
She munched like a Rabbit,
She gnawed like a Rat,
She popped like a Mouse,
She flew like a Bat—Oh yes!
She talked like a Parrot,
She quacked like a Drake,
She mewed like a Cat,
She hissed like a Snake—Oh yes!
She climbed like a Squirrel,
She flopped like a Seal,
She ran like a Deer,
She slid like an Eel—Oh yes!
She crept like a Tortoise,
She soared like a Lark,
She drank like a Fish,
She ate like a Shark—Oh yes!
She roared like a Lion,
She dived like a Whale,
She swam like a Goose,
She crawled like a Snail—Oh yes!
She croaked like a Raven,
She screeched like an Owl,
She cawed like a Crow,
She crowed like a Fowl—Oh yes!
She grinned like a Monkey,
She hummed like a Bee,
She buzzed like a Fly,
She jumped like a Flea—Oh yes!
Our dear little daughter once went to a children's ball dressed as a fairy. She was proud of being a fairy, and looked so nice that I put together the above nursery doggerel to please her, and in honour of the event, little thinking that she would soon leave this world. It might be considered better by some to remove this page, but as children like it I venture to let it stand with this explanation. E. W. C.
Sacred to the Memory of our dear LITTLE RUBY, who departed this life March 27th, 1890, aged 8 years. She was intelligent, industrious, affectionate and sociable, and is deeply regretted by all who knew her.
There is no flock, however watched and tended
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoever defended
But has one vacant chair!
There is no death! what seems so is transition
This life of mortal breath,
Is but a suburb of life Elysian
Whose portal we call death.
She is not dead—the child of our affection—
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection
And GOD himself doth rule.

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