NOVEMBER fogs, November fogs,
A month to Christmas day.
The world is cold and dirty,
But the muffin man is gay.
He rings his bell, he rings his bell
All through the afternoon:
He rings his bell to let us know
That Christmas will come soon.
THE Punch and Judy man's in sight,
He's coming down our street,
He's stopping just before our house—
Shut up! I bagged that seat.
I say, the Colonel opposite[J]
Is sending him away,
Because he says his wife is ill
And can't bear noise to-day.
[J] He bagged our ball the other day.
AFTER a winter walk, it's nice
To see the baked-potato man
Poking his stove and picking out
The best potatoes from his pan.
A baked potato on a spike
Is very like a pirate's head;
I always think of them again
Long after when I've gone to bed.