"O son," quoth his mother, "you fill me with pain!"
And she sobbed and she sighed with her whole might and main,
And called to her husband in desperate strain.
"Pooh, pooh!" said old Gluck,
"The youngster is right,
So let him alone, ma'am,
Or you and I'll fight.
And, hark ye, my son, I have noticed of late
Yon puddle attracts you. Tis well. Find your mate.
The Gungs, as a family, seem to adore you.
Select your own waters,
Take one of the daughters,
And leap into life like your father before you."
V.
Alas for young puddledum! Proudly he scouted
The sire's good advice. He sulked and he pouted,
And the Gung girls, in turn, every one of them, flouted.
"What, choose me a wife!
Does he think I'm a fool?
No, my motto for life
Is: one frog to a pool.
Shall I yield up my freedom—be tied to a log?
Not I, by my jumps!" quoth this prig of a frog.
"Miss Gung, sir, for all I'll prevent, gug-a-loo!
May sing till they carry me,
'No one will marry me,
Nobody, nobody's coming to woo!'"
VI.
I must tell you; old Gluck, with his puddle so fair,
Was known by the banks as mud-millionaire.
So, young Gluck (who you know, was his first son and heir),
Soon set up a team
Of sleek water-rats,
And covered his head
With the brightest of hats;
Then, with a phaeton and footman or two,
He drove forth to dazzle, to awe and subdue.
Oh! glum was his face, his heart icy cold!
And the seat of his car,
Though too wide by far
For one single frog, not another would hold.
VII.
But when did the heartless, disdainful, and flat
Live on, unrebuked by this world's tit for tat?
And why did our frog trust his fate to a rat?
One day, as he drove,
There came forth to stare—
Kingfisher and Duck—
A most comical pair.
The first was the proudest that ever was seen,
For the rod in his hand was the gift of his queen;
But the other—ah! never did duck so expand;
Yet strut as he could,
And strain as he would,
Poor Quack, for the life of him, couldn't look grand.