For kings as well were going wrong,
And 'stead of crowns wore beaver hats,
While those once mean and poor grew strong;
The dogs e'en ran from mice and rats.
The Frenchman spoke the Spanish tongue,
The Russian's words were Turkestan;
And England's nerves were all unstrung
By cockneys speaking Aryan.
Schools went to boys, and billie-goats
Drove children harnessed up to carts.
The rivers flowed up hill, and oats
Were fed to babies 'stead of tarts.
With things in this shape was I born.
The stars were topsy-turvy all,
And hence it is my fate forlorn
When things are short to call them tall;
When thing are black to call them white;
And if they're good to call them bad;
To say 'tis day when it is night;
To call an elephant a shad.
And when I say that this is this,
That it is that you'll surely know;
For truth's a thing I always miss,
And what I say is never so."
"Poor fellow!" cried Jimmieboy. "How very unpleasant! Is that really a true story?"
"No," returned the major, sadly. "It is not true."
And then Jimmieboy knew that it was true, and he felt very sorry for the major.
"Never mind, major," he said, tapping his companion affectionately on the shoulder. "I'll believe what you say if nobody else does."