| “Now Jack is a fine old fellow, you see; Spicy, and full of his pranks, is he: Snipping off noses, just for fun, And sticking ’em on again when he is done; A-pinching at pretty, soft ears and cheeks; A-wakin’ folks up with his jolly freaks; But a—h! for your life Look sharp for his wife! “For she comes after, and comes to stay— Welcome or not—for a month and a day! She plots, and she plans, she sneaks, and she crawls Till she finds a way through the thickest of walls!” |
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| “Oh—oo!” cries Phunny-kind, “how does she look?” “To be sure! I’ll picture her just like a book. —Her nose—is an icicle, sharp and strong, To poke in at every hole and crack; Her eyes gleam frostily all night long— But who knows whether they’re blue or black? “She brings on her back An astonishing pack. Like a blacksmith’s bellows, marvellous big; And while she dances a horrible jig, Out of this bellows a doleful tune She skre—eels away, in the dark o’ the Moon! “But if ever she works with a wicked will, ’Tis when she is quiet, and sly, and still. She pretends that old Jack leaves his work but half done, She ‘wishes for once he’d be quit of his fun!’ So she follows him up with her sour, ugly phiz, And wherever she goes, you may know she means ’biz. “Look sharp when she peeps through the crack o’ the door! Look sharp when she hides away under the floor! She’ll crack the bare ground with a terrible bang! And out from the clap boards the nails will go, spang! | |
| “She’ll spoil the potatoes (if once she gets in), And she’ll shake all the people whose bed-clothes are thin! She’ll stop the old clock in the dead o’ the night, And make him hold up both his hands in a fright; And—what she won’t do, Is more than I know! “Zh——zh! I’m all of a shiver, Heart, lungs, and liver! Jist always, whiniver I think of that o—o—ld Sa-archinkold!” Then Phunny-kind shivers a little, too; And heaves a deep sigh; and says, “Are you froo?” Then slides down, quietly, to the floor, Doubtfully watching the outer door. | |
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She says, “Is my bed got a fing like you said— A ‘comfut’—vat I can put over my head?” “(Oh, Phil! naughty boy!)” says grandma;—“yes, dear Your bed’s got a ‘comfut,’ so never you fear— And you should be in it, for see, the old clock Points just to your bed-time, and says ‘tick-tock!’” “Well, grampa, I’m goin’ as quick as I can, If you’ll only give me a handful of ‘tan.’” “What for?” “Oh, I’m jus’ goin’ to take it to bed, ’Cos, I recollec’ every word that you said, And gramma, and Phil; for all of you told How ‘comfuts,’ and ‘tan’ll’ keep out Sa-archinkold!” |  |
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