The Ballad Of The Fairy Spoon.
The little wee baby came tripping
All out of the fairy land,
With a nosegay of fairy flowers
Clasped close in each little wee hand;
The flower of baby beauty,
The flower of baby health,
And all the blossomy sweetness
That makes up a baby's wealth.
But still he kept sighing and sobbing,
Sighing and sobbing away,
Till I said, "Now what ails my Baby,
And why does he cry all day?"
And he answered, "Oh! as I came tripping,
I spied a rose by the way:
And on it the loveliest dewdrop
I'd seen since I came away.
"But as I was stooping to sip it,
A wind came up from the south;
And it blew my little wee spoonie
Away from my little wee mouth."
"And what was your little wee spoonie?
And what does my Baby mean?"
"Oh! the little wee fairy spoonie
That was given me by the queen.
"For whenever a baby leaves her,
The queen she grants him a boon,—
She fills both his hands with flowers,
And puts in his mouth a spoon.
"And some are made of the hazel,
And some are made of the horn;
And some are made of the silver white,
For the good-luck babes that are born."
"But what are they for, my Baby?"
"Nay! that part I cannot tell!
But send for the fairy Spoonman,
For he knows it all right well.
"Oh! the little old fairy Spoonman,
He lives in the white, white moon.
Send a whisper up by a moonbeam,
And he will be down here soon."
Then I whispered along a moonbeam
That silvered the grass so clear,
"Oh! little old fairy Spoonman,
Come down and comfort my dear!"
Then something came sliding, sliding
Down out of the white, white moon.
And something came gliding, gliding
Straight in at my window soon.
And there stood a little old fairy,
All bent and withered and black,
With a leathern apron about him,
And a bundle of spoons at his back.
And first he looked at my baby,
And then he looked at me;
And then he looked at his apron,
But never a word spake he.
"Oh! Spoonman dear," said the baby,
"The wind blew my spoon away.
So now will you give me another,
You little black Spoonman, pray?
"For I did not lose my spoonie,
Nor drop it carelessly;
But a wind came up to my poor little mouth,
And blew it away from me."
"Now well for you," said the Spoonman,
"Little Baby, if this be so.
For if you had carelessly lost your spoon,
Without it through life you'd go.
"And well for you, little Baby,
If you know your spoon again.
For but if you know the very same one,
Your asking will be in vain.
"So say: was it made of the hazel,
Or was it made of the horn,
Or was it made of the silver white,
If a good-luck babe you were born?"
"Oh! it was nor horn nor hazel,
But all of the silver bright;
For a good-luck babe I was born indeed,
To be my Mammy's delight."
"Then take your spoon, little Baby,
With the fairies' blessing free,
For the south wind blew it around the world,
And blew it again to me."
With that he gave to my baby
The tiniest silver spoon.
Then out he slipped in the moonlight,
And we lost him from sight right soon.
Now some may think I am foolish,
And some may think I am mad;
But never once since that very night
Has my baby been cross or sad.
And I counsel all anxious mothers
Whose babies are crying in pain,
To send for the fairy Spoonman,
And get them their spoons again.
[SONG OF THE LITTLE WINDS.]
The birdies may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the birdies' sake.
Kissing them, fanning them, soft and sweet,
E'en till the dark and the dawning meet.
The flowers may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the flowers' sake.
Rocking the buds on the rose-mother's breast,
Swinging the hyacinth-bells to rest.
The children may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the children's sake.
Singing so sweet in each little one's ear,
He thinks his mother's own song to hear.
[GOOD-NIGHT SONG.]
Good-night, Sun! go to bed!
Take your crown from your shining head.
Now put on your gray night-cap,
And shut your eyes for a good long nap.
Good-night, Sky, bright and blue!
Not a wink of sleep for you.
You must watch us all the night,
With your twinkling eyes so bright.
Good-night, flowers! now shut up
Every swinging bell and cup.
Take your sleeping-draught of dew:
Pleasant dreams to all of you!
Good-night, birds, that sweetly sing!
Little head 'neath little wing!
Every leaf upon the tree
Soft shall sing your lullaby.
Last to you, little child,
Sleep is coming soft and mild.
Now he shuts your blue eyes bright:
Little Baby dear, good-night!
[ANOTHER "GOOD-NIGHT."]
Birds, birds, in the linden-tree,
Low, low let your music be!
Bees, bees, in the garden bloom,
Hushed, hushed be your drowsy hum!
Wind, wind, through the lattice waft
Still, still, thy breathing soft!
Flowers, sweet be the breath you shed:
Two little children are going to bed.
Eyes, eyes, 'neath your curtains white,
Veiled, veiled be the sunny light!
Lips, lips, like the roses red,
Soft, soft be your sweet prayers said!
Feet, feet, that have danced all day,
Now, now must your dancing stay.
Low, low lay each golden head!
Two little children are going to bed.
["A Bee Came Tumbling"]
A bee came tumbling into my ear,
And what do you think he remarked, my dear?
He said that two tens make up a score,
And really and truly I knew that before.
[JINGLE.]
I jumped on the back of a dragon-fly,
And flew and flew till I reached the sky.
I pulled down a cloud that was hiding the blue,
And all the wee stars came tumbling through.
They tumbled down and they tumbled round,
And turned into flowers as they touched the ground.
So come with me, little children, come,
And down in the meadow I'll pick you some.
[LITTLE OLD BABY.]
Little old baby, pretty old baby,
Screams and cries at his little old bath,
Pours on the head of his little old mother
All the full vials of baby wrath.
Little old baby, pretty old baby,
If you could see just how queer you look,—
Arms and legs in a knot together,
Face twisted up in a terrible crook,—
How you would straighten out every feature,
Masculine vanity all aflame!
Fie! what a noise from a little wee creature!
Did they abuse him! and was it a shame!
Little old baby, pretty old baby,
Curls himself over and goes to sleep.
Ah! such is life, my little old baby,
Sleep and forget it, or wake and weep!
[BABY'S JOURNEY.]
Hoppety hoppety ho!
Where shall the baby go?
Over dale and down,
To Limerick town,
And there shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
How shall the baby go?
In a coach-and-seven,
With grooms eleven,
And so shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
When shall the baby go?
In the afternoon,
By the light of the moon,
And then shall the baby go.
Hoppety hoppety ho!
Why shall the baby go?
To dance a new jig,
And to buy a new wig,
And that's why the baby shall go.
[THE BUMBLEBEE.]
The bumblebee, the bumblebee,
He flew to the top of the tulip-tree.
He flew to the top, but he could not stop,
For he had to get home to his early tea.
The bumblebee, the bumblebee,
He flew away from the tulip-tree;
But he made a mistake, and flew into the lake,
And he never got home to his early tea.
[THE OWL AND THE EEL AND THE WARMING-PAN.]
The owl and the eel and the warming-pan,
They went to call on the soap-fat man.
The soap-fat man he was not within:
He'd gone for a ride on his rolling-pin.
So they all came back by the way of the town,
And turned the meeting-house upside down.
[YOUNG (ONE)'S NIGHT THOUGHTS.]
"Hi!" said the baby.
"Ho!" said the baby.
"Ha!" said the baby,
"I won't go to sleep!
Naughty old mother,
You make such a pother,
Just for to bother
You, awake I will keep.
"Dance!" said the baby.
"Prance!" said the baby.
"Perchance," said the baby,
"You think I'm a goose.
Vainly you're dreaming
Of rest, and your scheming
To silence my screaming
Is all of no use.
"Sing!" said the baby.
"Ring!" said the baby.
"Bring," said the baby,
"My rattles and toys.
Still I will weep, oh!
Awake I will keep, oh!
Won't go to sleep, oh!
Will make a noise!
"Walk!" said the baby.
"Talk!" said the baby.
"I'll balk," said the baby,
"Your efforts, one and all.
Still I'll be scorning,
When, towards the morning,
Without any warning
Asleep I will fall."
[LITTLE SUNBEAM.]
Little yellow Sunbeam,
Waking up one day,
Down into the garden
Took her shining way;
Merrily went dancing
Down the morning air,
Shaking out the sparkles
From her golden hair.
Little yellow Sunbeam
Twinkled all about,
Down among the green leaves
Flitting in and out.
Waking up the daisies
From their morning doze,
Ringing up the lily-bells,
Knocking up the rose.
Little yellow Sunbeam,
Climbing up the wall,
On the baby's window
Happened for to fall.
In the little chamber
As she took a peep,
There she saw the Lovely One
Lying fast asleep.
Little yellow Sunbeam
Tripped into the room,
Sweeping out the darkness
With her golden broom.
All the little shadows,
Glimmering and gray,
Gathered up their dusky skirts,
Softly slid away.
Little yellow Sunbeam,
Flitting to the bed,
Merrily went dancing
Round the baby's head.
Suddenly there flashed out,
To her great surprise,
Other little sunbeams
From the baby's eyes.
Little yellow Sunbeam
Said, "How can this be?
Whence these little sparklers
So unlike to me?
Scarce I think they can be
Sunbeams real and true,
For we all are yellow;
These are lovely blue."
Little yellow Sunbeam
Flew back to the sky.
Running to her father,
She began to cry:
"Father, you must vanish!
Run and hide your head!
There's a brighter sun than you
In the baby's bed."
[BABY'S BELONGINGS.]
Here are the baby's bonny blue eyes.
What shall we give her to see?
A calico doll and a parrotty poll,
As funny as funny can be.
Here are the baby's little pink ears.
What shall we give her to hear?
A bell that will ring, and a bird that will sing,
And a brook that goes tinkling clear.
Here is the baby's little wee nose.
What shall we give her to smell?
A hyacinth blue and a violet too,
And roses and lilies as well.
Here is the baby's pretty red mouth.
What shall we give her to eat?
A sugary heart and a raspberry tart,
And everything else that is sweet.
And here are the baby's little fat hands.
What shall we give her to hold?
A sunbeam? That's right! and a rainbow bright,
And plenty of silver and gold.
[INFANTRY TACTICS.]
Present arms! There they are,
Both stretched out to me.
Strong and sturdy, smooth and white,
Fair as arms may be.
Ground arms! on the floor,
Picking up his toys:
Breaking all within his reach,
Busiest of boys.
Right wheel! off his cart,
Left wheel too is gone.
Horsey's head is broken off,
Horsey's tail is torn.
Quick step, forward march!
Crying, too, he comes.
Had a battle with the cat.
"Scratched off bofe my fums!"
Shoulder arms! Here at last,
Round my neck they close.
Poor little soldier boy
Off to quarters goes.
[BABY BO.]
Fly away, fly away, Birdie oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a feather and bring him a song,
And sing to him sweetly all the day long.
Hoppety, kickety, Grasshopper oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a thistle and bring him a thorn,
Hop over his head and then be gone.
Howlibus, gowlibus, Doggibus oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a snarl and bring him a snap,
And bring him a posy to put in his cap.
Twinkily, winkily, Firefly oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a moonbeam and bring him a star,
Then twinkily, winkily, fly away far.
[THE DIFFERENCE.]
Eight fingers,
Ten toes,
Two eyes,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the rose,
"Oh! what a pity
I've only one nose!"
Ten teeth
In even rows,
Three dimples,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the snuff,
"Deary me!
One nose is enough."
[LITTLE JOHN BOTTLEJOHN.]
Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,
And a blithe little man was he.
And he won the heart of a pretty mermaid
Who lived in the deep blue sea.
And every evening she used to sit
And sing on the rocks by the sea,
"Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won't you come out to me?"
Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,
And he opened his little door.
And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped,
Until he came down to the shore.
And there on the rocks sat the little mermaid,
And still she was singing so free,
"Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won't you come out to me?"
Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,
And the mermaid, she made one too,
And she said, "Oh! I never saw any one half
So perfectly sweet as you!
In my lovely home 'neath the ocean foam,
How happy we both might be!
Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won't you come down with me?"
Little John Bottlejohn said, "Oh yes!
I'll willingly go with you.
And I never shall quail at the sight of your tail,
For perhaps I may grow one too."
So he took her hand, and he left the land,
And plunged in the foaming main.
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Never was seen again.
[JEMIMA BROWN.]
I.
Bring her here, my little Alice,
Poor Jemima Brown!
Make the little cradle ready!
Softly lay her down!
Once she lived in ease and comfort,
Slept on couch of down;
Now upon the floor she's lying,
Poor Jemima Brown!
II.
Once she was a lovely dolly,
Rosy-cheeked and fair,
With her eyes of brightest azure
And her golden hair;
Now, alas! no hair's remaining
On her poor old crown;
And the crown itself is broken,
Poor Jemima Brown!
III.
Once her legs were smooth and comely,
And her nose was straight;
And that arm, now hanging lonely,
Had, methinks, a mate.
And she was as finely dressed as
Any doll in town.
Now she's old, forlorn, and ragged,
Poor Jemima Brown!
IV.
Yet be kind to her, my Alice;
'Tis no fault of hers
If her wilful little mistress
Other dolls prefers.
Did she pull her pretty hair out?
Did she break her crown?
Did she pull her arms and legs off,
Poor Jemima Brown?
V.
Little hands that did the mischief,
You must do your best
Now to give the poor old dolly
Comfortable rest.
So we'll make the cradle ready,
And we'll lay her down;
And we'll ask Papa to mend her,
Poor Jemima Brown!
[ALICE'S SUPPER.]
Far down in the meadow the wheat grows green,
And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;
And this is the song that I hear them sing,
While cheery and loud their voices ring:
"'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
And it is for Alice's supper, ho! ho!"
Far down in the valley the old mill stands,
And the miller is rubbing his dusty white hands;
And these are the words of the miller's lay,
As he watches the millstones a-grinding away:
"'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
And it is for Alice's supper, hi! hi!"
Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And Maggie is kneading the soft white dough,
And this is the song that she's singing to-day,
While merry and busy she's working away:
"'Tis the finest dough, by near or by far,
And it is for Alice's supper, ha! ha!"
And now to the nursery comes Nannie at last,
And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
'Tis a plate full of something all yellow and white,
And she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:
"'Tis the best bread-and-butter I ever did see!
And it is for Alice's supper, he! he!"
[TODDLEKINS.]
Butterfly,
Flutter by,
Through the summer air;
Roses bloom,
Sweet perfume
Shedding everywhere;
Robins sing,
Bluebells ring
Greeting to my dear,
When her sweet
Tiny feet
Bring her toddling here.
Pitapat!
Little fat
Funny baby toes!
Do not stumble,
Or she'll tumble
On her baby nose.
Closer cling,
Little thing,
To your mother's side,
Baby mine,
Fair and fine,
Mother's joy and pride.
[BOBBILY BOO AND WOLLYPOTUMP.]
Bobbily Boo, the king so free,
He used to drink the Mango tea.
Mango tea and coffee, too,
He drank them both till his nose turned blue.
Wollypotump, the queen so high,
She used to eat the Gumbo pie.
Gumbo pie and Gumbo cake,
She ate them both till her teeth did break.
Bobbily Boo and Wollypotump,
Each called the other a greedy frump.
And when these terrible words were said,
They sat and cried till they both were dead.
[SLEEPYLAND.]
Baby's been in Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills.
Baby's been in Sleepyland
All the rainy morning.
From the cradle where she lay,
Up she jumped and flew away,
For Sleepyland is bright and gay
Every rainy morning.
What did you see in Sleepyland,
Baby littlest, Baby prettiest?
What did you see in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Saw the sun that shone so twinkily,
Saw the grass that waved so crinkily,
Saw the brook that flowed so tinkily,
All the lovely morning.
What did you hear in Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills?
What did you hear in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Heard the winds that wooed so wooingly,
Heard the doves that cooed so cooingly,
Heard the cows that mooed so mooingly,
All the lovely morning.
What did you do in Sleepyland,
Baby littlest, Baby prettiest?
What did you do in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Sang a song with a blue canary,
Danced a dance with a golden fairy,
Rode about on a cinnamon beary,
All the lovely morning.
Would I could go to Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills;
Would I could go to Sleepyland,
Every rainy morning.
But to Sleepyland, as I have been told,
No one may go after three years old,
So poor old Mammy stays out in the cold,
Every rainy morning.
[Little Brown Bobby.]
Little Brown Bobby sat on the barn floor
Little Brown Bobby looked in at the door,
Little Brown Bobby said "Lackaday!
Who'll drive me this little brown bobby away?"
Little Brown Bobby said "Shoo! shoo! shoo!"
Little Brown Bobby said "Moo! moo! moo!"
This frightened them so that both of them cried,
And wished they were back at their Mammy's side!
[PHIL'S SECRET.]
I know a little girl,
But I won't tell who!
Her hair is of the gold,
And her eyes are of the blue.
Her smile is of the sweet,
And her heart is of the true.
Such a pretty little girl!—
But I won't tell who.
I see her every day,
But I won't tell where!
It may be in the lane,
By the thorn-tree there.
It may be in the garden,
By the rose-beds fair.
Such a pretty little girl!—
But I won't tell where.
I'll marry her some day,
But I won't tell when!
The very smallest boys
Make the very biggest men.
When I'm as tall as father,
You may ask about it then.
Such a pretty little girl!—
But I won't tell when.
[A SONG FOR HAL.]
Once I saw a little boat, and a pretty, pretty boat,
When daybreak the hills was adorning,
And into it I jumped, and away I did float,
So very, very early in the morning.
Chorus. And every little wave had its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
And every little wave had its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.
All the fishes were asleep in their caves cool and deep,
When the ripple round my keel flashed a warning.
Said the minnow to the skate, "We must certainly be late,
Though I thought 'twas very early in the morning."
Chorus. For every little wave has its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
For every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.
The lobster darkly green soon appeared upon the scene,
And pearly drops his claws were adorning.
Quoth he, "May I be boiled, if I'll have my slumber spoiled,
So very, very early in the morning!"
Chorus. For every little wave has its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on,
For every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.
Said the sturgeon to the eel, "Just imagine how I feel,
Thus roused without a syllable of warning.
People ought to let us know when a-sailing they would go,
So very, very early in the morning."
Chorus. When every little wave has its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
When every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.
Just then up jumped the sun, and the fishes every one
For their laziness at once fell a-mourning.
But I stayed to hear no more, for my boat had reached the shore,
So very, very early in the morning.
Chorus. And every little wave took its nightcap off,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap off.
And every little wave took its nightcap off,
And courtesied to the sun in the morning.
[THE FAIRIES.]
Is it true, my mother?
Can it really be,
That the little fairies
Every day you see?
Oh! the little fairies,
Wonderful and wise,
Have you really seen them
With your own two eyes?
Tell me where their home is,
Dearest mother mine.
Is it in the garden
'Neath the clustering vine?
Is it in the meadow,
'Mid the grasses tall?
Is it by the brookside,
Sweetest place of all?
Deep within the woodland,
Shall I find them then,—
Pretty little maidens,
Pretty little men;
Curled among the roseleaves,
Stretched along the fern,
Where no wind can shake them,
And no sunbeams burn?
Does the little queen live
In a great red rose,
Twenty elves to fan her
When to sleep she goes;
Coverlet of lilies
Sprinkled o'er with pearls,
Golden stars a-twinkling
In her golden curls?
Do they paint the flowers?
Do they teach the birds
All their lovely music,
With its strange, sweet words?
Oh! but tell me, mother!
Is it really true?
And when next you seek them,
Will you take me too?
True it is, my darling,
True as true can be,
That the little fairies
Every day I see,
Not within the meadow,
Not in woodland gloom,
But in brightest sunshine,
In this very room.
Singing like the robin,
Chirping like the wren,
Pretty little maidens,
Pretty little men;
Leaning o'er my shoulder,
Swinging on my chair,
Oh! the little fairies,
I see them everywhere.
Peeping at the window,
Peeping at the door,
If I bid them scamper,
Peeping all the more.
Little sweetest voices
Laughing merrily,
Oh! the little fairies,
They'll never let me be.
Tugging at my apron,
Twitching at my gown,
Climbing up into my lap,
Rumble-tumbling down.
Naughty little blue eyes,
Full of impish glee,
Oh! the little fairies,
They'll never let me be!
All are kings and queens, dear,
Every smallest one;
And on mother's knee here
Is their regal throne.
Look into the glass, dear!
One of them you'll see.
Oh! the little fairies,
God bless them all for me!
[THE QUEEN OF THE ORKNEY ISLANDS.]
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She's travelling over the sea:
She's bringing a beautiful cuttlefish,
To play with my baby and me.
Oh! his head is three miles long, my dear,
His tail is three miles short.
And when he goes out he wriggles his snout,
In a way that no cuttlefish ought.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She rides on a sea-green whale.
He takes her a mile, with an elegant smile,
At every flip of his tail.
He can snuffle and snore like a Highlandman,
And swear like a Portugee;
He can amble and prance like a peer of France,
And lie like a heathen Chinee.
QUEEN OF THE ORKNEY ISLANDS.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She dresses in wonderful taste.
The sea-serpent coils, all painted in oils,
Around her bee-yu-tiful waist.
Oh! her gown is made of the green sea-kale;
And though she knows nothing of feet,
She can manage her train, with an air of disdain,
In a way that is perfectly sweet.
Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She's travelling over the main.
So we'll hire a hack, and we'll take her straight back
To her beautiful Islands again.
[BABY'S WAYS.]
Toddle, toddle, waddle, waddle,
On her little pinky toes.
Stumble, stumble, pitch and tumble,
That's the way the baby goes.
Prattle, prattle, rattle, rattle,
Little shouts and little shrieks,
Tears, with laughter coming after,
That's the way the baby speaks.
Playing, toying, still enjoying
Every sweet that Nature gives.
Smiling, weeping, waking, sleeping,
That's the way the baby lives.
[POT AND KETTLE.]
[To be read to little boys and girls who quarrel with each other.]
"Oho! Oho!" said the pot to the kettle,
"You're dirty and ugly and black!
Sure no one would think you were made of metal,
Except when you're given a crack."
"Not so! not so!" kettle said to the pot.
"'Tis your own dirty image you see.
For I am so clear, without blemish or blot,
That your blackness is mirrored in me."
[PUNKYDOODLE AND JOLLAPIN.]
Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Emperor take his tea?
He takes it with melons, he takes it with milk,
He takes it with syrup and sassafras silk.
He takes it without, he takes it within.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Cardinal take his tea?
He takes it in Latin, he takes it in Greek,
He takes it just seventy times in the week.
He takes it so strong that it makes him grin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Admiral take his tea?
He takes it with splices, he takes it with spars,
He takes it with jokers and jolly jack tars.
And he stirs it round with a dolphin's fin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the President take his tea?
He takes it in bed, he takes it in school,
He takes it in Congress against the rule.
He takes it with brandy, and thinks it no sin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
[MRS. SNIPKIN AND MRS. WOBBLECHIN.]
Skinny Mrs. Snipkin,
With her little pipkin,
Sat by the fireside a-warming of her toes.
Fat Mrs. Wobblechin,
With her little doublechin,
Sat by the window a-cooling of her nose.
Says this one to that one,
"Oh! you silly fat one,
Will you shut the window down? You're freezing me to death!"
Says that one to t'other one,
"Good gracious, how you bother one!
There isn't air enough for me to draw my precious breath!"
Skinny Mrs. Snipkin,
Took her little pipkin,
Threw it straight across the room as hard as she could throw;
Hit Mrs. Wobblechin
On her little doublechin,
And out of the window a-tumble she did go.
[MY SUNBEAMS.]
Oh, what shall we do for the Lovely
This rainy, rainy day?
Oh! how shall we make the baby laugh,
When everything's dull and gray?
The sun has gone on a picnic,
The moon has gone to bed,
The tiresome sky does nothing but cry,
As if its best friend were dead.
Come hither, come hither, my Sunbeams!
Come one, and two, and three;
And now in a trice we'll have the room
As sunny as sunny can be.
Come, dimpling, dimpling Dumpling,
Come, Rosy, Posy Rose,
Come, little boy Billy a-toddling round
On little fat tottering toes.
Now twinkle, now twinkle, my Sunbeams!
Now twinkle and laugh and dance,
And brush me the gloom straight out of the room,
Nor leave it the ghost of a chance.
Aha! see the Lovely smile now!
Aha! see her jump and crow!
As round and round, with laugh and dance,
My three merry Sunbeams go.
And who cares now for the raindrops?
Who cares for the gloomy day,
When each little heart is doing its part
To make us all glad and gay?
You moon, you may stay in bed now;
You sun, you may wander and roam;
And cry away, cry, you tiresome sky!
We've plenty of sunshine at home!
[IN THE CLOSET.]
They've took away the ball,
Oh dear!
And I'll never get it back,
I fear.
And now they've gone away,
And left me for to stay
All alone the livelong day,
In here.
It was my ball, anyhow,
Not his:
For he never had a ball
Like this.
Such a coward you'll not see,
E'en if you should live to be
Old as Deuteronomy,
As he is.
I'm sure I meant no harm,
None at all!
I just held out my hand
For the ball,
And—somehow—it hit his head.
Then his nose it went and bled,
And as if I 'd killed him dead
He did bawl.
Mother said I was a naughty
Little wretch.
And Aunt Jane said the police
She would fetch.
And that nurse, who's always glad
Of a chance to make me mad,
Said, "indeed she never had
Seen sech!"
No! I never, never will
Be good!
I'll go and be a babe
In the wood.
I'll run away to sea,
And a pirate I will be.
Then they'll never dare call me
Rough and rude.
How hungry I am getting!
Let me see!
I wonder what they're going to have
For tea.
Of course there will be jam
And—oh! that potted ham!
How unfortunate I am!
Dear me!
Oh! it's growing very dark
In here.
And that shadow in the corner
Looks so queer!
Won't they bring me any light?
Must I stay in here all night?
I shall surely die of fright.
Oh dear!
Mother, darling, will you never
Come back?
Oh! I'm sorry that I hit him
Such a crack!
Hark! yes, 'tis her voice I hear!
Now good-by to every fear!
For she's calling me her dear
Little Jack!
[BED-TIME.]
How many toes has the tootsey foot?
One, two, three, four, five.
Shut them all up in the little red sock,
Snugger than bees in a hive.
How many fingers has little wee hand?
Four, and a little wee thumb.
Shut them up under the bedclothes tight,
For fear that Jack Frost should come.
How many eyes has the Baby Bo?
Two, so shining and bright.
Shut them up under the little white lids.
And kiss them a loving good-night.
[BIRD-SONG.]
Sweet! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the morning,
Sending up to heaven's blue our happy waking song;
Daily, gayly, our tiny home adorning,
Working all so merrily the whole day long.
Sweet! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the noontide;
Half the day is over now, half our work is done;
Neatly, featly, the moss and twigs are blended,
Feather, flower, leaf, and stems, all added one by one.
Sweet! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the evening;
Happy day is past, past, happy night begun;
Wooing, cooing, we nestle 'mid the branches,
Sinking down to rest with the sinking of the sun.
Soft, soft, soft, soft,
Sleep we through the still night;
Tiny head 'neath tiny wing comfortably curled,
Singing, springing, with the breath of morning,
Waking up once more to all the wonder of the world.
[GEOGRAPHI.]
[Air: There was a maid in my countree.]
There was a man in Manitobá,
The only man that ever was thar;
His name was Nicholas Jones McGee,
And he loved a maid in Mirimichi.
Chorus. Sing ha! ha! ha! for Manitobá!
Sing he! he! he! for Mirimichi!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson for you and me.
There was a man in New Mexico,
He lost his grandmother out in the snow;
But his heart was light, and his ways were free,
So he bought him another in Santa Fé.
Chorus. Sing ho! ho! ho! for New Mexico!
Sing he! he! he! for Santa Fé!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson for you and me.
There was a man in Austra-li-a,
He sat and wept on the new-mown hay;
He jumped on the tail of a kangaroo.
And rode till he came to Kalamazoo.
Chorus. Sing hey! hey! hey! for Austra-li-a!
Sing hoo! hoo! hoo! for Kalamazoo!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson for me and you.
There was a man in Jiggerajum,
He went to sea in a kettle-drum;
He sailed away to the Salisbury Shore,
And I never set eyes on that man any more.
Chorus. Sing hum! hum! hum! for Jiggerajum!
Sing haw! haw! haw! for the Salisbury Shore!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson the whole world o'er.
[HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY.]
Higgledy-piggledy went to school,
Looking so nice and neat!
Clean little mittens on clean little hands,
Clean little shoes on his feet.
Jacket and trousers all nicely brushed,
Collar and cuffs like snow.
"See that you come home as neat to-night,
Higgledy-piggledy oh!"
Higgledy-piggledy came from school,
In such a woful plight,
All the people he met on the road
Ran screaming away with fright.
One shoe gone for ever and aye,
T'other one stiff with mud,
Dirt-spattered jacket half torn from his back,
Mittens both lost in the wood.
Higgledy-piggledy stayed in bed
All a long, pleasant day,
While his father fished for his other boot
In the roadside mud and clay.
All day long his mother must mend,
Wash and iron and sew,
Before she can make him fit to be seen,
Higgledy-piggledy oh!
[BELINDA BLONDE.]
Belinda Blonde was a beautiful doll,
With rosy-red cheeks and a flaxen poll.
Her lips were red, and her eyes were blue,
But to say she was happy would not be true;
For she pined for love of the great big Jack
Who lived in the Box so grim and black.
She never had looked on the Jack his face;
But she fancied it shining with beauty and grace,
And all the day long she would murmur and pout,
Because Jack-in-the-box would never come out.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful Jack-in-the-box,
Undo your bolts and undo your locks!
The cupboard is shut, and there's no one about:
Oh! Jack-in-the-box, jump out! jump out!"
But alas! alas! for Belinda Blonde,
And alas! alas! for her dreamings fond.
There soon was an end to all her doubt,
For Jack-in-the-box really did jump out,—
Out with a crash and out with a spring,
Half black and half scarlet, a horrible thing.
Out with a yell and a shriek and a shout,
His great goggle-eyes glaring wildly about.
"And what did Belinda do?" you say.
Alas! before she could get out of the way,
The monster struck her full on the head,
And with pain and with terror she fell down dead.
MORAL.
Now all you dolls, both little and big,
With china crown and with curling wig,
Before you give way to affection fond,
Remember the fate of Belinda Blonde!
And unless you're fond of terrible knocks,
Don't set your heart on a Jack-in-the-box!
[TOMMY'S DREAM; OR, THE GEOGRAPHY DEMON.]
I hate my geography lesson!
It's nothing but nonsense and names.
To bother me so every Thursday,
I think it's the greatest of shames.
The brooklets flow into the rivers,
The rivers flow into the sea;
For my part, I hope they enjoy it!
But what does it matter to me?
Of late even more I've disliked it,
More thoroughly odious it seems,
Ever since that sad night of last winter,
When I had that most frightful of dreams.
I'd studied two hours that evening,
On mountains and rivers and lakes;
When I'd promised to go down to Grandpa's,
For one of Aunt Susan's plum-cakes.
She sent me one, though, and I ate it
On the stairs, before going to bed;
And those stupid old mountains and rivers
Were dancing all night through my head.
I dreamed that a horrible monster
Came suddenly into my room,—
A frightful Geography Demon,
Enveloped in darkness and gloom.
His body and head like a mountain,
A volcano on top for hat;
His arms and his legs were like rivers,
With a brook round his neck for cravat.
He laid on my trembling shoulder
His fingers cold, clammy, and long;
And rolling his red eyes upon me,
He roared out this horrible song:—
"Come! come! rise and come
Away to the banks of the Muskingum!
It rolls o'er the plains of Timbuctoo,
With the Peak of Teneriffe just in view;
And the cataracts leap in the pale moonshine,
As they dance o'er the cliffs of Brandywine.
"Flee! flee! rise and flee
Away to the banks of the Tombigbee!
We'll pass by Alaska's flowery strand,
Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand;
We'll pass it by, and we'll rest awhile
On Michillimackinack's tropic isle;
While the apes of Barbary frisk around,
And the parrots crow with a lovely sound.
"Hie! hie! rise and hie
Away to the banks of the Yang-tse-kai!
There the giant mountains of Oshkosh stand,
And the icebergs gleam through the shifting sand;
While the elephant sits in the palm-tree high,
And the cannibal feasts upon bad-boy pie.
"Go! go! rise and go
Away to the banks of the Hoang-ho!
There the Chickasaw sachem is making his tea,
And the kettle boils and waits for thee.
I'll smite thee, ho! and I'll lay thee low,
On the beautiful banks of the Hoang-ho!"
These terrible words were still sounding
Like trumpets and drums through my head,
When the monster clutched tighter my shoulder,
And dragged me half out of the bed.
In terror I clung to the bedpost,
But the faithless bedpost broke;
I screamed out aloud in my anguish,
And suddenly—well—I awoke!!—
No monster—no music—all silence,
Save mother's soft accents so mild:
"No, Father, you need not be anxious!
I know now what troubles the child.
I'll give him a little hot ginger
As soon as he's fairly awake;
His frightful Geography Demon
Is just his Aunt Susan's plum-cake!"
[POLLY'S YEAR.]
January 1.
Come sit on my knee and tell me here,
Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear,
What do you mean to do this year?
I mean to be good the whole year long,
And never do anything careless or wrong;
I mean to learn all my lessons right,
And do my sums, if I sit up all night.
I mean to keep all my frocks so clean,
Nurse never will say I'm "not fit to be seen."
I mean not to break even one of my toys,
And I never, oh! never will make any noise.
In short, Uncle Ned, as you'll very soon see,
The best little girl in the world I shall be.
December 31.
Come sit on my knee and let me hear,
Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear,
What you have done in the course of the year.
Oh dear! Uncle Ned, oh dear! and oh dear!
I'm afraid it has not been a very good year.
For somehow my sums would come out wrong,
And somehow my frocks wouldn't stay clean long.
And somehow I've often been dreadfully cross,
And somehow I broke my new rocking-horse.
And somehow Nurse says I have made such a noise,
I might just as well have been one of the boys.
In short, Uncle Ned, I very much fear
You must wait for my goodness another year.
[WHAT THE ROBINS SING IN THE MORNING.]
Wake! wake! children, wake!
Here we're singing for your sake,
Chirrup! chirrup! chirrup! chee!
Sweet a song as sweet can be.
Rise! rise! children, rise!
Shake the poppies from your eyes.
Sweet! sweet! chirrup! tweet!
Morning blossoms at your feet.
Song and sweetness, dawn and dew,
All are waiting now for you.
Wake! wake! children, wake!
Here we're singing for your sake.
[THE EVE OF THE GLORIOUS FOURTH.]
I.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They vowed, every one, they'd have glorious fun
On the glorious Fourth of July.
They spent all their money on trumpets and drums,
On fish-horns and pistols and guns,
On elephant crackers (which they pronounced "whackers"),
On toffee, torpedoes, and buns.
II.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They said with delight, "We will sit up all night,
To make ready for Fourth of July.
We will beat on our drums till the constable comes,
And then we will hasten away.
We will toot the gay horn till the coming of morn,
The morn of the glorious day."
III
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They made such a noise that the other small boys
With envy were ready to die.
They made such a din that the neighbors within
With fury were ready to choke,
With rage at the drumming and strumming and humming,
The pistols and powder and smoke.
IV.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They thought 'twould be best for a moment to rest,
And their toffee and buns for to try.
On the steps of a house they began to carouse,
And they shouted and shrieked in their glee,
As they fired their guns and devoured their buns
In a manner both frolic and free.
V.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
Ah! nothing they saw of the opening door,
Nothing knew of the peril so nigh.
A horrid great man with a watering-can
Was standing behind them so still,
And suddenly down on each curly crown
Its contents he poured with a will.
VI.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
With squeaks and with squeals did they take to their heels,
While their enemy after did fly.
And he beat them with sticks, and he kicked them with kicks,
And he thumped on their heads with the can,
And half-way up the street he pursued them so fleet,
Still thumping their heads as he ran.
VII.
Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They said, every one, that it wasn't much fun
Getting ready for Fourth of July.
They crept to their beds and they laid down their heads,
And they slept till the sun was on high,
And when they awaked, so sorely they ached,
That they just could do nothing but cry.
[THE DANDY CAT.]
To Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
His mistress remarked one day,
"I'm tormented, my cat, both by mouse and by rat:
Come rid me of them, I pray!
"For though you're a cat of renowned descent,
And your kittenhood's long been gone,
Yet never a trace of the blood of your race
In battle or siege you've shown."
Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
Arose from his downy bed.
He washed himself o'er, from his knightly paw
To the top of his knightly head.
And he curled his whiskers, and combed his hair,
And put on his perfumed gloves;
And his sword he girt on, which had never been drawn
Save to dazzle the eyes of his loves.
And when he had cast one admiring glance
On the looking-glass tall and fair,
To the pantry he passed; but he stood aghast,
For lo! the pantry was bare!
The pickles, the cookies, the pies were gone!
And naught remained on the shelf
Save the bone of a ham, which lay cold and calm,
The ghost of its former self.
Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin stood sore dismayed,
And he looked for the mice and rats.
But they, every one, had been long since gone
Far, far from the reach of cats.
For while he was donning his satin pelisse,
And his ribbons and laces gay,
They had finished their feast, without hurry the least,
And had tranquilly trotted away.
The mistress of Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly,
A woman full stern was she.
She came to the door, and she rated him sore
When the state of the case she did see.
She grasped him, spite of his knightly blood,
By the tip of his knightly tail;
His adornments she stripped, and his body she dipped
Three times in the water-pail.
She plunged him thrice 'neath the icy flood,
Then turned him out-doors to dry;
And terror and cold on his feelings so told,
That he really was like to die.
And now in this world 'twould be hard to find,
Although you looked low and high,
A cat who cares less for the beauties of dress
Than Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly.
[A PARTY.]
On Willy's birthday, as you see,
These little boys have come to tea.
But, oh! how very sad to tell!
They have not been behaving well.
For ere they took a single bite,
They all began to scold and fight.
The little boy whose name was Ned,
He wanted jelly on his bread;
The little boy whose name was Sam,
He vowed he would have damson jam;
The little boy whose name was Phil
Said, "I'll have honey! Yes—I—WILL!!"
BUT—
The little boy whose name was Paul,
While they were quarrelling, ate it all.
[JUMBO JEE.]
There were some kings, in number three,
Who built the tower of Jumbo Jee.
They built it up to a monstrous height,
At eleven o'clock on a Thursday night.
They built it up for forty miles,
With mutual bows and pleasing smiles;
And then they sat on the edge to rest,
And partook of lunch with a cheerful zest.
And first they ate of the porkly pie,
And wondered why they had built so high;
And next they drank of the ginger wine,
Which gave their noses a regal shine.
They drank to the health of Jumbo Jee,
Until they could neither hear nor see.
They drank to the health of Jumbo Land,
Until they could neither walk nor stand.
They drank to the health of Jumbo Tower
Until they really could drink no more;
And then they sank in a blissful swoon,
And flung their crowns at the rising moon.
[AN INDIAN BALLAD.]
Whopsy Whittlesey Whanko Whee,
Howly old, growly old Indian he,
Lived on the hills of the Mungo-Paws,
With all his pappooses and all his squaws.
There was Wah-wah-bocky, the Blue-nosed Goose,
And Ching-gach-gocky, the Capering Moose:
There was Pecksy Wiggin, and Squaw-pan too,
But the fairest of all was Michiky Moo.
Michiky Moo, the Savory Tart,
Pride of Whittlesey Whanko's heart;
Michiky Moo, the Cherokee Pie,
Apple of Whittlesey Whanko's eye.
Whittlesey Whanko loved her so
That the other squaws did with envy glow;
And each said to the other, "Now, what shall we do
To spoil the beauty of Michiky Moo?"
"We'll lure her away to the mountain top,
And there her head we will neatly chop."
"We'll wile her away to the forest's heart,
And shoot her down with a poisoned dart."
"We'll lead her away to the river-side,
And there she shall be the Manito's bride."
"Oh! one of these things we will surely do,
And we'll spoil the beauty of Michiky Moo."
"Michiky Moo, thou Cherokee Pie,
Away with me to the mountain high!"
"Nay, my sister, I will not roam.
I'm safer and happier here at home."
"Michiky Moo, thou Savory Tart,
Away with me to the forest's heart!"
"Nay! my sister, I will not go;
I fear the dart of some hidden foe."
"Michiky Moo, old Whittlesey's pride,
Away with me to the river-side!"
"Nay! my sister, for fear I fall!
And wouldst thou come if thou heardst me call?"
"Now choose thee, choose thee thy way of death!
For soon thou shalt draw thy latest breath!
We all have sworn that this day we'll see
The last, proud Michiky Moo, of thee!"
Whittlesey Whanko, hidden near,
Each and all of these words did hear.
He summoned his braves, all painted for war,
And gave them in charge each guilty squaw:
"Take Wah-wah-bocky, the Blue-nosed Goose;
Take Ching-gach-gocky, the Capering Moose;
Take Peeksy Wiggin, and Squaw-pan too,
And leave me alone with my Michiky Moo.
This one away to the mountain top,
And there her head ye shall neatly chop;
This one away to the forest's heart,
And shoot her down with a poisoned dart;
This one away to the river-side,
And there she shall be the Manito's bride;
Away with them all, the woodlands through!
For I'll have no squaw save Michiky Moo."
Away went the braves, without question or pause,
And they soon put an end to the guilty squaws.
They pleasantly smiled when the deed was done,
Saying, "Ping-ko-chanky! oh! isn't it fun!"
And then they all danced the Buffalo dance,
And capered about with ambiguous prance,
While they drank to the health of the lovers so true,
Bold Whittlesey Whanko and Michiky Moo.
[THE EGG.]
Oh! how shall I get it, how shall I get it,—
A nice little new-laid egg?
My grandmamma told me to run to the barn-yard,
And see if just one I could beg.
"Moolly-cow, Moolly-cow, down in the meadow,
Have you any eggs, I pray?"
The Moolly-cow stares as if I were crazy,
And solemnly stalks away.
"Oh! Doggie, Doggie, perhaps you may have it,
That nice little egg for me."
But Doggie just wags his tail and capers,
And never an egg has he.
"Now, Dobbin, Dobbin, I'm sure you must have one,
Hid down in your manger there."
But Dobbin lays back his ears and whinnies,
With "Come and look, if you dare!"
"Piggywig, Piggywig, grunting and squealing,
Are you crying 'Fresh eggs for sale'?"
No! Piggy, you're very cold and unfeeling,
With that impudent quirk in your tail.
"You wise old Gobbler, you look so knowing,
I'm sure you can find me an egg.
You stupid old thing! just to say 'Gobble-gobble!'
And balance yourself on one leg."
Oh! how shall I get it, how shall I get it,—
That little white egg so small?
I've asked every animal here in the barn-yard,
And they won't give me any at all.
But after I'd hunted until I was tired,
I found—not one egg, but ten!
And you never could guess where they all were hidden,—
Right under our old speckled hen!
[WOULDN'T.]
She wouldn't have on her naughty bib!
She wouldn't get into her naughty crib!
She wouldn't do this, and she wouldn't do that,
And she would put her foot in her Sunday hat.
She wouldn't look over her picture-book!
She wouldn't run out to help the cook!
She wouldn't be petted or coaxed or teased,
And she would do exactly whatever she pleased.
She wouldn't have naughty rice to eat!
She wouldn't be gentle and good and sweet!
She wouldn't give me one single kiss,
And pray what could we do with a girl like this?
We tickled her up, and we tickled her down,
From her toddling toes to her curling crown.
And we kissed her and tossed her, until she was fain
To promise she wouldn't say "wouldn't" again.
[WILL-O'-THE-WISP.]
"Will-o'-the-wisp! Will-o'-the-wisp!
Show me your lantern true!
Over the meadow and over the hill,
Gladly I'll follow you.
Never I'll murmur nor ask to rest,
And ever I'll be your friend,
If you'll only give me the pot of gold
That lies at your journey's end."
Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp,
Lighted his lantern true;
Over the meadow and over the hill,
Away and away he flew.
And away and away went the poor little boy,
Trudging along so bold,
And thinking of naught but the journey's end,
And the wonderful pot of gold.
Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp,
Flew down to a lonely swamp;
He put out his lantern and vanished away
In the evening chill and damp.
And the poor little boy went shivering home,
Wet and tired and cold;
He had come, alas! to his journey's end,
But where was the pot of gold?
[NONSENSE VERSES.]
I.
Nicholas Ned,
He lost his head,
And put a turnip on instead;
But then, ah me!
He could not see,
So he thought it was night, and he went to bed.
II.
Ponsonby Perks,
He fought with Turks,
Performing many wonderful works;
He killed over forty,
High-minded and haughty,
And cut off their heads with smiles and smirks.
III.
Winifred White,
She married a fright,
She called him her darling, her duck, and delight;
The back of his head
Was so lovely, she said,
It dazzled her soul and enraptured her sight.
IV.
Harriet Hutch,
Her conduct was such,
Her uncle remarked it would conquer the Dutch:
She boiled her new bonnet,
And breakfasted on it,
And rode to the moon on her grandmother's crutch.
[AN OLD RAT'S TALE.]
He was a rat, and she was a rat,
And down in one hole they did dwell.
And each was as black as your Sunday hat,
And they loved one another well.
He had a tail, and she had a tail;
Both long and curling and fine.
And each said, "My love's is the finest tail
In the world, excepting mine!"
He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,
And they both pronounced it good;
And both remarked it would greatly add
To the charms of their daily food.
So he ventured out and she ventured out;
And I saw them go with pain.
But what them befell I never can tell,
For they never came back again.
[TO THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WRIGGLES.]
Don't wriggle about any more, my dear!
I'm sure all your joints must be sore, my dear!
It's wriggle and jiggle, it's twist and it's wiggle,
Like an eel on a shingly shore, my dear,
Like an eel on a shingly shore.
Oh! how do you think you would feel, my dear,
If you should turn into an eel, my dear?
With never an arm to protect you from harm,
And no sign of a toe or a heel, my dear,
No sign of a toe or a heel?
And what do you think you would do, my dear,
Far down in the water so blue, my dear,
Where the prawns and the shrimps, with their curls and their crimps,
Would turn up their noses at you, my dear,
Would turn up their noses at you?
The crab he would give you a nip, my dear,
And the lobster would lend you a clip, my dear.
And perhaps if a shark should come by in the dark,
Down his throat you might happen to slip, my dear,
Down his throat you might happen to slip.
Then try to sit still on your chair, my dear!
To your parents 'tis no more than fair, my dear.
For we really don't feel like inviting an eel
Our board and our lodging to share, my dear,
Our board and our lodging to share.
[The Forty Little Ducklings.]
[A story with a certain amount of truth in it.]
The forty little ducklings who lived up at the farm,
They said unto each other, "Oh! the day is very warm!"
They said unto each other, "Oh! the river's very cool!
The duck who did not seek it now would surely be a fool."
The forty little ducklings, they started down the road;
And waddle, waddle, waddle, was the gait at which they goed.
The same it is not grammar,—you may change it if you choose,—
But one cannot stop for trifles when inspired by the Muse.
They waddled and they waddled and they waddled on and on.
Till one remarked, "Oh! deary me, where is the river gone?
We asked the Ancient Gander, and he said 'twas very near.
He must have been deceiving us, or else himself, I fear."
They waddled and they waddled, till no further they could go:
Then down upon a mossy bank they sat them in a row.
They took their little handkerchiefs and wept a little weep,
And then they put away their heads, and then they went to sleep.
There came along a farmer, with a basket on his arm,
And all those little duckylings he took back to the farm.
He put them in their little beds, and wished them sweet repose,
And fastened mustard plasters on their little webby toes.
Next day these little ducklings, they were very very ill.
Their mother sent for Doctor Quack, who gave them each a pill;
But soon as they recovered, the first thing that they did,
Was to peck the Ancient Gander, till he ran away and hid.
[THE MOUSE.]
I'm only a poor little mouse, Ma'am.
I live in the wall of your house, Ma'am.
With a fragment of cheese,
And a very few peas,
I was having a little carouse, Ma'am.
No mischief at all I intend, Ma'am.
I hope you will act as my friend, Ma'am.
If my life you should take,
Many hearts it would break,
And the mischief would be without end, Ma'am.
My wife lives in there, in the crack, Ma'am,
She's waiting for me to come back, Ma'am.
She hoped I might find
A bit of a rind,
For the children their dinner do lack, Ma'am.
'Tis hard living there in the wall, Ma'am,
For plaster and mortar will pall, Ma'am,
On the minds of the young,
And when specially hung—
Ry, upon their poor father they'll fall, Ma'am.
I never was given to strife, Ma'am,—
(Don't look at that terrible knife, Ma'am!)
The noise overhead
That disturbs you in bed,
'Tis the rats, I will venture my life, Ma'am.
In your eyes I see mercy, I'm sure, Ma'am.
Oh, there's no need to open the door, Ma'am.
I'll slip through the crack,
And I'll never come back,
Oh! I'll never come back any more, Ma'am!
[A VALENTINE.]
Oh, little loveliest lady mine!
What shall I send for your valentine?
Summer and flowers are far away,
Gloomy old Winter is king to-day,
Buds will not blow, and sun will not shine;
What shall I do for a valentine?
Prithee, Saint Valentine, tell me here,
Why do you come at this time o' year?
Plenty of days when lilies are white,
Plenty of days when sunbeams are bright;
But now, when everything's dark and drear,
Why do you come, Saint Valentine dear?
I've searched the gardens all through and through,
For a bud to tell of my love so true;
But buds are asleep, and blossoms are dead,
And the snow beats down on my poor little head;
So, little loveliest lady mine,
Here is my heart for your valentine.
[JAMIE IN THE GARDEN.]
How is a little boy to know
About these berries all,
That ripen all the summer through,
From spring-time until fall?
I must not eat them till they're ripe,
I know that very well;
But each kind ripens differently,
So how am I to tell?
Though strawberries and raspberries,
When ripe, are glowing red,
Red blackberries I must not touch,
Mamma has lately said.
And though no one of these is fit
To touch when it is green,
Ripe gooseberries, as green as grass,
At Grandpapa's I've seen.
And peas are green when they are ripe;
Some kinds of apples too.
But they're not berries; neither are
These currants, it is true.
These currants, now! why, some are red,
And some are brilliant green.
"Don't eat unripe ones!" said Mamma.
But which ones did she mean?
To disobey her would be wrong.
To leave them I am loath.
I really can't find out, unless—
Unless I eat them both!
[He eats them both.]
[SOMEBODY'S BOY (NOT MINE).]
When he was up he cried to get down,
And when he was in he cried to get out;
And no little boy in Boston town
Was ever so ready to fret and pout.
Poutsy, oh!
And fretsy, oh!
And spend the whole day in a petsy, oh!
And what shall we do to this bad little man,
But scold him as hard as we possibly can!
When he was cold he cried to be warm,
And when he was warm he cried to be cold;
And all the morning 'twas scold and storm,
And all the evening 'twas storm and scold.
Stormy, oh!
And scoldy, oh!
And never do what he was toldy, oh!
And what shall we do to this bad little man,
But scold him as hard as we possibly can!
[BOGY.]
His eyes are green and his nose is brown,
His feet go up and his head goes down,
And so he goes galloping through the town,
The king of the Hobbledygoblins.
His heels stick out and his toes stick in,
He wears his mustaches upon his chin,
And he glares about with a horrible grin,
The king of the Hobbledygoblins.
No naughty boys can escape his eyes;
He clutches them, 'spite of their tears and sighs,
And away at a terrible pace he hies
To his castle of Killemaneetem;
There he shuts them up under lock and key,
And feeds them on blacking and grasshopper tea,
And if ever they try to get out, you see,
Why, this is the way he'll treat 'em.
[Here Mamma may toss the little boy up in the air, or shake him, or tickle his little chin, whichever he likes best.]
Now, Johnny and Tommy, you'd better look out!
All day you've done nothing but quarrel and pout,
And nobody knows what it's all about,
But it gives me a great deal of pain, dears.
So, Johnny and Tommy, be good, I pray,
Or the king will be after you some fine day,
And off to his castle he'll whisk you away,
And we never shall see you again, dears!
[THE MERMAIDENS.]
The little white mermaidens live in the sea,
In a palace of silver and gold;
And their neat little tails are all covered with scales,
Most beautiful for to behold.
On wild white horses they ride, they ride,
And in chairs of pink coral they sit;
They swim all the night, with a smile of delight,
And never feel tired a bit.
