Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1

by E. W. Cole

[Previous] - [Index] - [Next]

Page 35—Boy Land

Dirty Jack There was one little Jack, Not very long back, And 't is said to his lasting disgrace, That he never was seen With his hands at all clean, Nor yet ever clean was his face. His friends were much hurt To see so much dirt And often and well did they scour, But all was in vain, He was dirty again Before they had done it an hour. When to wash he was sent, He reluctantly went With water to splash himself o'er, But he left the black streaks Running down both his cheeks, And made them look worse than before. The pigs in the dirt Could not be more expert Than he was, in grubbing about; And people have thought This gentleman ought To be made with four legs and a snout. The idle and bad May, like to this lad, Be dirty and black, to be sure. But good boys are seen To be decent and clean, Although they be ever so poor.

Throwing Stones Johnny Jones, why do you do it? Those who throw stones Surely will rue it; Little of pleasure, evil may flow, Mischief past measure comes of a blow. Yes, yes! stone flinging. Laugh as you may, Woe may be bringing Upon you some day. Someone is watching, Armed by the law, Truncheon from pocket Soon he will draw. Off he will march you— Dreadful to think!—to a dark prison: Light through a chink, Bread without butter, water for drink.

Dirty Dick Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick, Struggled and tore, and wanted to fight Susan, the nurse, who in the bath Began to wash him on Saturday night. Her hair he tried to pull up by the roots, The water he splashed all over the floor, Which ran downstairs, and one night made A terrible slop at the parlour door. To give him advice was a waste of time, So his father resolved to try a stick, And never since then has he been called Dirty, noisy, mischievous Dick.

Boy That Stole the Apples A boy looked over a wall, And spied some lovely apples; "But," says he "the tree is tall, And belongs to 'Grumpie Chapples!' Still, I think some could be got By a climbing lad like me: I'll try and steal a lot, So here goes up the tree."

The wall he then got over, And up the tree he went; But Chapples, mowing clover, Espied the wicked gent. He let him fill his school-bag— Get over the wall again; Rushed up and played at touch-tag, Which surprised him much, and then:— Look at the Picture!!!

Mischievous Fingers Pretty little fingers, Wherefore were they made? Like ten smart young soldiers, All in pink arrayed. Apt and quick obedient To your lightest thought, Doing in an instant Everything they're taught. 'T was for play or study, Pen to wield or ball; Kite, top, needle, pencil, Prompt at parents' call. Picking, poking, soiling Costly things and dear, Wrecking, cracking, spoiling All that they come near. Thus 't was with Robert Chivers, Brandishing a swish, Broke a vase to shivers Filled with silver fish. "Tick, tick" says the Dutch clock. Robert fain would know How it's pendulum swinging Made it's wheels go. Who not ask? No! foolish Robert takes a stick, Pokes and breaks the clock, which Ceases soon to tick. "Puff, puff," sighs the bellows. Robert wants to find, Yet he will not ask, whence Comes it's stock of wind. With a knife upripping, Finds them void and flat. Ah! be sure a whipping Robert caught for that.

The Boy who Played with Fire Listen about a naughty boy Who might have been a parent's joy, But that he had a strong desire To always meddle with fire. One day when his mamma went out, She said "Mind, dear, what you're about: With your nice books and playthings stay, And with the fire, oh! do not play." But as soon as his mamma was gone, And this bad boy left all alone, Thought he, "In spite of all ma says, Now we'll have a glorious blaze. "No one is by, 't is quickly done, And oh! 't will be such famous fun." Quick then about the hearth he strewed Some scraps of paper and of wood. Then lighted them and drew them out, And with them, laughing, ran about. But soon he changed his merry note— The flames, alas, had caught his coat, And every moment, mounting higher, His body soon was all on fire; And though he screamed with shriek and shout, No one came near to put it out: So it happened, sad to say, That boy was burned to death that day.