Then the king came riding stately,
On his charger set sedately,
With his golden robe about him,
And his crown upon his head.
Oh! a royal port and presence,
Meet for courtly love and pleasance;
Happy, happy is the maiden
He shall woo and he shall wed.
Oh, the pretty painted ladies!
Oh, the naughty painted ladies!
How they leaned from door and window,
Flinging roses 'neath his feet;
Silken robes and jewels shining,
White arms waving, tossing, twining,
Lips that laughed and eyes that languished,
Over bold and over sweet.
But the king looked gravely on them;
Cast no answering glance upon them;
Coldly turned from where they waited
In their beauty, in their pride.
"Find me out some modest maiden,
Not with silks and jewels laden,
One whose pureness, one whose sweetness
Fit her for a royal bride."
Oh, the pretty painted ladies!
Oh, the naughty painted ladies!
Red with shame and white with anger,
Back they pressed against the wall.
As they drew their silks around them,
Lo! some sudden magic bound them,
While they whispered, while they clustered,
Into flowers changed them all.
Glowing cheek and snowy bosom
Changed to white and ruddy blossom;
Locks of gold and locks of auburn
Into tendrils curling green.
While for silk and satin's shimmer,
And for jewels' rainbow glimmer,
Leaves that whispered, leaves that clustered,—
Only these were to be seen.
But the pretty painted ladies,
But the naughty painted ladies,
Still are running, climbing, running,
At the window, at the door.
Peeping, peeping, here and yonder,
"Is the story true?" you wonder;
Sure, I heard it from themselves, dear,
For they tell it o'er and o'er.
[SOME FISHY NONSENSE.]
Timothy Tiggs and Tomothy Toggs,
They both went a-fishing for pollothywogs;
They both went a-fishing
Because they were wishing
To see how the creatures would turn into frogs.
Timothy Tiggs and Tomothy Toggs,
They both got stuck in the bogothybogs;
They caught a small minnow,
And said 'twas a sin oh!
That things with no legs should pretend to be frogs.