How nice it musd been in der rough vinter veddher, Vhen it settles righdt down to a cold, freezing rain, To haf dot rope coom oup so light as a feddher, Und findt dot der bookit vas proke off der chain. Dhen down in der vell mit a pole you go fishing, Vhile indo your back cooms an oldt-fashioned kink; I pet you mine life all der time you vas vishing For dot long-handled dipper dot hangs by der sink.
How handy it vas schust to turn on der faucet, Vhere der vater flows down vrom der schpring on der hill! I schust vas der schap dot vill alvays indorse it, Oxsbecially nighds vhen der veddher vas chill. Vhen Pfeiffer's oldt vell mit der schnow vas all cofered, Und he vades droo der schnow drift to get him a trink, I schlips vrom der hearth vhere der schiltren vas hofered, To dot long-handled dipper dot hangs by der sink.
Dhen gife oup der bookits und pails to der horses; Off mikerobes und tadpoles schust gif dhem dheir fill! Gife me dot pure vater dot all der time courses Droo dhose pipes dot run down vrom der schpring on der hill. Und eef der goot dings of dis vorld I gets rich in, Und frendts all aroundt me dheir glasses schall clink, I schtill vill rememper dot oldt coundtry kitchen, Und dot long-handled dipper dot hangs by der sink.
THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair! Bishop and abbot and prior were there; Many a monk, and many a friar, Many a knight, and many a squire, With a great many more of lesser degree,— In sooth, a goodly company; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee. Never, I ween, Was a prouder seen, Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims! In and out, Through the motley rout, That little Jackdaw kept hopping about: Here and there, Like a dog in a fair, Over comfits and cates, And dishes and plates, Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, Mitre and crosier, he hopped upon all. With a saucy air, He perched on the chair Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat; And he peered in the face Of his Lordship's Grace, With a satisfied look, as if he would say, "We two are the greatest folks here to-day!" And the priests, with awe, As such freaks they saw, Said, "The Devil must be in that Little Jackdaw!" The feast was over, the board was cleared, The flawns and the custards had all disappeared, And six little Singing-boys,—dear little souls In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles,— Came, in order due, Two by two, Marching that grand refectory through! A nice little boy held a golden ewer, Embossed and filled with water, as pure As any that flows between Rheims and Namur. Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch In a fine golden hand-basin made to match. Two nice little boys, rather more grown, Carried lavender-water and eau-de-Cologne; And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope! One little boy more A napkin bore, Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, And a cardinal's hat marked in "permanent ink."
The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight Of these nice little boys dressed all in white; From his finger he draws His costly turquoise: And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, Deposits it straight By the side of his plate, While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait: Till, when nobody's dreaming of any such thing, That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring!
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There's a cry and a shout, And a deuce of a rout, And nobody seems to know what they're about, But the monks have their pockets all turned inside out; The friars are kneeling, And hunting and feeling The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. The Cardinal drew Off each plum-colored shoe, And left his red stockings exposed to the view; He peeps, and he feels In the toes and the heels. They turn up the dishes,—they turn up the plates,— They take up the poker and poke out the grates, —They turn up the rugs, They examine the mugs; But, no!—no such thing,— They can't find the ring! And the Abbot declared that "when nobody twigged it, Some rascal or other had popped in and prigged it!"
The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, He called for his candle, his bell, and his book! In holy anger and pious grief He solemnly cursed that rascally thief! He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed; From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head; He cursed him in sleeping, that every night He should dream of the Devil, and wake in a fright. He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in drinking, He cursed him in coughing, in sneezing, in winking; He cursed him in sitting, in standing, in lying; He cursed him in walking, in riding, in flying; He cursed him living, he cursed him dying!— Never was heard such a terrible curse! But what gave rise To no little surprise, Nobody seemed one penny the worse!
The day was gone, The night came on, The monks and the friars they searched till dawn; When the sacristan saw, On crumpled claw, Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw! No longer gay, As on yesterday; His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way;— His pinions drooped,—he could hardly stand,— His head was as bald as the palm of your hand; His eye so dim, So wasted each limb, That, heedless of grammar, they all cried,"That's him!— That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thing, That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's Ring!" The poor little Jackdaw, When the monks he saw, Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw; And turned his bald head as much as to say, "Pray be so good as to walk this way!" Slower and slower He limped on before, Till they came to the back of the belfry-door, Where the first thing they saw, Midst the sticks and the straw, Was the RING, in the nest of that little Jackdaw!