Then out from the forest a savage all red
With blood-curdling yell leaps to battle,
A thrust from the big wooden sword—he is dead
With a most melancholy death-rattle.
Then up from the ground lifts Boy Careless his horse,
And back o’er the all-trackless stubbles,
For it’s many a mile to his cabin, of course,
In the magic boy land of Blow Bubbles.
Oh, joy to the lad in his make-believe ride
With the make-believe gun on his shoulder,
With the make-believe sword cut from lath at his side,
And a sigh from the heart that is older!
A whistle for Care from the harp of his lips,
A fig for the whole of his troubles,
When he’s off like the wind on his make-believe trips
In the magic boy land of Blow Bubbles!
THE GINGERCAKE MAN
THE Gingercake man was a lump of brown dough
Till a great rolling pin was run over him, so!
To flatten him out, and he lay there so thin,
His bones almost popped through the holes in his skin;
They sifted him over with flour and spice,
And made him some eyes with two kernels of rice,
And took some dried currants, the biggest and best,
To make him some buttons for closing his vest.
The Gingercake man wabbled this way and that,
When they seeded a raisin and made him a hat
That was stuck on his head in the jauntiest way,
For a Gingercake man is not made every day.
They stuck in some cloves for his ears; yes, indeed!
And made him some teeth out of caraway seed,
And when he was finished they buttered a pan—
The biggest they had—for the Gingercake man.
Then into the oven they put him to bake
Until he was hard and could stand and not break
His legs when he stood; and they set him to cool
Until all the children should come home from school.
And oh, the delight and the wonder and glee,
When mother invited the children to see,
THE GINGERCAKE MAN