He looked quizzically at Alice, and suddenly began to sing:
O, ferocious and atrocious is the beast they call the lynx;
And fierce his howl, and black his scowl, and red his jowl, methinks....
“You have a very nice voice,” said Alice, as the singer paused.
“I wish you wouldn’t interrupt,” snapped the wooden man. “First you want to hear about the animals, and then you don’t.” He stopped short. “Do you really like my voice?” he asked eagerly. Then his head drooped woodenly, for he saw that Alice was no longer paying attention.
“I haven’t much of a voice myself,” mused the little girl, “but I think I could speak a piece.”
“Let’s hear it,” urged the wooden man. And moment Alice heard herself reciting:
I thought I heard a parson swear
Because his eyes were sore;