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Jingle Book, The

<h2>The Rhyme of Triangular Tommy</h2> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img53-1.png" width-obs="46" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> Triangular Tommy, one morning in May, Went out for a walk on the public highway. Just here I will say, ’Twas a bright sunny day, And the sky it was blue, and the grass it was green, The same sky and grass that you’ve all of you seen; And the birds in the trees sang their usual song, And Triangular Tommy went trudging along. But I can tell you He cared naught for the view. He did just what small boys of his age always do: He shouted out “Scat!” At a wandering cat, And he picked a big daisy to stick in his hat; The clovers he topped, And the toadstools he cropped, And sometimes he scuffled and sometimes he hopped. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img54-1.png" width-obs="57" height-obs="82" alt="image" title="" /></div> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img54-2.png" width-obs="49" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> He took an old stick and poked at a worm, And merrily chuckled to see the thing squirm; When he chanced to look up, and in gorgeous array Triangular Tilly was coming his way. Triangular Tom straightened up in a jiff, And put on his best manner—exceedingly stiff; And as far as his angular shape would allow Triangular Tom made a beautiful bow. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img54-3.png" width-obs="65" height-obs="81" alt="image" title="" /></div> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img54-4.png" width-obs="38" height-obs="81" alt="image" title="" /></div> Triangular Tilly went smilingly by, With a glance that was friendly, but just a bit shy. And Tom so admired her that after she passed, A backward look over his shoulder he cast. And he said, “Though I think many girls are but silly, I really admire that Triangular Tilly.” <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img54-5.png" width-obs="46" height-obs="81" alt="image" title="" /></div> But soon all such thoughts were put out of his head, For who should come by but Triangular Ted, The very boy Tom had been wishing to see! “Hello!” said Triangular Tommy, said he. “Hello!” said Triangular Ted, and away Those two children scooted to frolic and play. And they had, on the green, Where ’twas all dry and clean, The best game of leap-frog that ever was seen. Triangular Tom beat down this way, you know, And Triangular Ted stood beside him, just so, When one, two, three—go! With the greatest gusto, Ted flew over Tom in a manner not slow. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img55-1.png" width-obs="124" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> They played hide-and-seek, they played marbles and tag, They played they were soldiers, and each waved a flag; Till at last they confessed, They wanted to rest; So they sat down and chatted with laughter and jest; <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img55-2.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="79" alt="image" title="" /></div> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img55-3.png" width-obs="30" height-obs="79" alt="image" title="" /></div> When Schoolmaster Jones they suddenly spied, Come clumping along with his pedagogue stride, As usual, with manner quite preoccupied; With his hat on one side, And his shoe-lace untied— A surly old fellow, it can’t be denied; And each wicked boy Thought that he would enjoy An occasion the thoughtful old man to annoy, And all of his wise calculations destroy. So they thought they’d employ A means known to each boy. And across the wide pavement they fastened a twine Exceedingly strong but exceedingly fine; And Triangular Tommy laughed out in his glee, To think how upset the old master would be! <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img56-1.png" width-obs="81" height-obs="40" alt="image" title="" /></div> Although very wicked, their mischievous scheme Was a perfect success; and with a loud scream, A horrible clash, A thump and a smash, Old Schoolmaster Jones came down with a crash. His hat rolled away, and his spectacles broke, And those dreadful boys thought it a howling good joke. And they just doubled up in immoderate glee, Saying, “Look at the Schoolmaster! Tee-hee! tee-hee!” <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img56-2.png" width-obs="41" height-obs="79" alt="image" title="" /></div> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img56-3.png" width-obs="41" height-obs="79" alt="image" title="" /></div> Tom gave a guffaw, And Ted roared a “haw-haw”; But soon their diversion was turned into awe, For old Schoolmaster Jones was angry, they saw. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img56-4.png" width-obs="49" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img57-1.png" width-obs="68" height-obs="78" alt="image" title="" /></div> Triangular Ted Turned swiftly and fled, And far down the street like a reindeer he sped, Leaving Tommy to face the old gentleman’s rage, Who quickly jumped up,—he was brisk for his age,— And with just indignation portrayed on his face, To Triangular Tommy he quickly gave chase. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img57-2.png" width-obs="50" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> And hearing his squeals And his frantic appeals, Triangular Tommy fast took to his heels. Now Tommy was agile and Tommy was spry; He whizzed through the air—he just seemed to fly; He rushed madly on, until, dreadful to say! He came where the railroad was just in his way— And alas! and alack! He tripped on the track And then with a terrible, sudden ker-thwack! Triangular Tommy sprawled flat on his back— And the train came along with a crash, and a crack, A din, and a clatter, a clang, and a clack, A toot, and a boom, and a roar, and a hiss, And chopped him up all into pieces like this— If you cut out papers just like them, why, then, If you try, you can put him together again. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img57-3.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="33" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>A Modern Invention</h2> Old Santa Claus is up-to-date, And hereafter, rumors say, He’ll come with his pack of glittering toys, And visit the homes of girls and boys, In a new reindeerless sleigh. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img58-1.png" width-obs="300" height-obs="300" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>An April Joke</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img59-1.png" width-obs="268" height-obs="254" alt="image" title="" /></div> Oh, it was a merry, gladsome day, When the April Fool met the Queen of May; She had roguish eyes and golden hair, And they were a mischief-making pair. They planned the funniest kind of a joke On the poor, long-suffering mortal folk; And a few mysterious words he said, His fool’s cap close to her flower-crowned head. Then he laughed till he made his cap-bells ring, At the thought of the topsy-turvy Spring. “’Tis a fair exchange,” he said, with a wink— “It is!” she said, and what do you think? The flowers that should bloom in the month of May Every one of them came on an April day! And they looked for April showers in vain, But all through May it did nothing but rain! <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>An Alice Alphabet</h2></div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img61-1.png" width-obs="141" height-obs="154" alt="image" title="" /></div> A is for Alice a-dressing the Queen. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img61-2.png" width-obs="105" height-obs="154" alt="image" title="" /></div> B is for Borogoves, mimsy and lean. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img61-3.png" width-obs="159" height-obs="103" alt="image" title="" /></div> C is the Cheshire Cat, wearing a grin. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img62-1.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="152" alt="image" title="" /></div> D is the Duchess who had a sharp chin. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img62-2.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="155" alt="image" title="" /></div> E is the Eaglet who barred out long words. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img62-3.png" width-obs="137" height-obs="154" alt="image" title="" /></div> F, the Flamingo, the queerest of birds. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img63-1.png" width-obs="138" height-obs="161" alt="image" title="" /></div> G is the Gryphon, loquacious and gay. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img63-2.png" width-obs="169" height-obs="139" alt="image" title="" /></div> H, Humpty Dumpty in gorgeous array. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img63-3.png" width-obs="298" height-obs="141" alt="image" title="" /></div> I is for Insects with curious names. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img64-1.png" width-obs="164" height-obs="162" alt="image" title="" /></div> J is the Jabberwock burbling with flames. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img64-2.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="70" alt="image" title="" /></div> K is the King who was whizzed through the air. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img64-3.png" width-obs="137" height-obs="157" alt="image" title="" /></div> L is the Lobster who sugared his hair. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img65-1.png" width-obs="124" height-obs="161" alt="image" title="" /></div> M, the Mock Turtle, whose tears freely flowed. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img65-2.png" width-obs="214" height-obs="140" alt="image" title="" /></div> N is for Nobody seen on the road. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img65-3.png" width-obs="146" height-obs="55" alt="image" title="" /></div> O is for Oysters who trotted so quick. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img66-1.png" width-obs="195" height-obs="135" alt="image" title="" /></div> P is the Puppy who played with a stick. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img66-2.png" width-obs="271" height-obs="176" alt="image" title="" /></div> Q is the Queen who ran very fast. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img66-3.png" width-obs="123" height-obs="163" alt="image" title="" /></div> R is the Rabbit who blew a great blast. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img67-1.png" width-obs="132" height-obs="111" alt="image" title="" /></div> S is the Sheep, on her knitting intent. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img67-2.png" width-obs="126" height-obs="146" alt="image" title="" /></div> T, Tweedledum, with his noisy lament. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img67-3.png" width-obs="91" height-obs="153" alt="image" title="" /></div> U is the Unicorn, valiant in feud. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img68-1.png" width-obs="130" height-obs="78" alt="image" title="" /></div> V is the Violet, saucy and rude. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img68-2.png" width-obs="164" height-obs="161" alt="image" title="" /></div> W, the Walrus, addicted to chat. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img68-3.png" width-obs="147" height-obs="148" alt="image" title="" /></div> X, Executioner, seeking the cat. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img69-1.png" width-obs="102" height-obs="155" alt="image" title="" /></div> Y is the Youth Father William surveyed. </div> <div class="box"> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img69-2.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="196" alt="image" title="" /></div> Z is the Zigzag the mouse’s tail made. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Funny Kittens</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img70-1.png" width-obs="260" height-obs="100" alt="image" title="" /></div> Once there were some silly kittens, And they knitted woolly mittens To bestow upon the freezing Hottentots. But the Hottentots refused them, Saying that they never used them Unless crocheted of red with yellow spots. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img70-2.png" width-obs="256" height-obs="130" alt="image" title="" /></div> So the silly little kittens Took their blue and white striped mittens To a Bear who lived within a hollow tree; The Bear responded sadly, “I would wear your mittens gladly, But I fear they are too gay for such as me.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img71-1.png" width-obs="369" height-obs="200" alt="image" title="" /></div> Then the kittens, almost weeping, Came to where a Cow lay sleeping, And they woke her with this piteous request, “Won’t you wear our mittens furry?” Said the Cow, “My dears, don’t worry; I will put them on as soon as I am dressed.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img72-1.png" width-obs="250" height-obs="130" alt="image" title="" /></div> Then the Cow put on her bonnet With a wreath of roses on it, And a beautiful mantilla fringed with white; And she donned the pretty mittens, While the silly little kittens Clapped their paws in admiration at the sight. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Strike of the Fireworks</h2> ’Twas the night before the Fourth of July, the people slept serene; The fireworks were stored in the old town hall that stood on the village green. The steeple clock tolled the midnight hour, and at its final stroke, The fire in the queer old-fashioned stove lifted its voice and spoke; “The earth and air have naught to do, the water, too, may play, And only fire is made to work on Independence Day. “I won’t stand such injustice! It’s wrong, beyond a doubt, And I shall take my holiday. Good-by, I’m going out!” Up spoke a Roman candle then, “The principle is right! Suppose we strike, and all agree we will not work to-night!” “My stars!” said a small sky-rocket. “What an awful time there’ll be, When the whole town comes together to-night, the great display to see!” “Let them come,” said a saucy pinwheel, “yes, let them come if they like, As a delegate I’ll announce to them that the fireworks are going to strike!” “My friends,” said a small cap-pistol, “this movement is all wrong,— Gunpowder, noise, and fireworks to Fourth of July belong. My great ancestral musket made Independence Day, I frown on your whole conspiracy, and you are wrong, I say!” And so they talked and they argued, some for and some against,— And they progressed no further than they were when they commenced. Until in a burst of eloquence a queer little piece of punk Arose in his place and said, “I think we ought to show some spunk. And I for one have decided, although I am no shirk, That to-day is a legal holiday and not even fire should work. “And I am of some importance,”—here he gave a pretentious cough, “For without my assistance none of you could very well be put off.” “You are right,” said the Roman candle, “and I think we are all agreed To strike for our rights and our liberty. Hurrah! we shall succeed!” The dissenters cried with one accord, “Our objections we withdraw. Hurrah, hurrah for the fireworks’ strike!” and they cried again, “Hurrah!” Then a match piped up with a tiny voice, “Your splendid scheme I like. I agree with all your principles and so I, too, will strike!” Suiting the action to the word, the silly little dunce Clambered down from his matchsafe and excitedly struck at once. He lost his head, and he ran around among the fireworks dry, And he cried, “Hurrah for the fireworks’ strike! Hurrah for the Fourth of July!” With his waving flame he lit the punk—a firecracker caught a spark,— Then rockets and wheels and bombs went off—no longer the place was dark! The explosions made a fearful noise, the flames leaped high and higher, The village folk awoke and cried, “The town hall is on fire!” So the strike of the fireworks ended in a wonderful display Of pyrotechnic grandeur on Independence Day! <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Arch Armadillo</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img76-1.png" width-obs="234" height-obs="120" alt="image" title="" /></div> There once was an arch Armadillo Who built him a hut ’neath a willow; He hadn’t a bed So he rested his head On a young Porcupine for a pillow. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>A Dream Lesson</h2> Once there was a little boy who wouldn’t go to bed, When they hinted at the subject he would only shake his head, When they asked him his intentions, he informed them pretty straight That he wouldn’t go to bed at all, and Nursey needn’t wait. As their arguments grew stronger, and their attitude more strict, I grieve to say that naughty boy just yelled and screamed and kicked. And he made up awful faces, and he told them up and down That he wouldn’t go to bed for all the nurses in the town. Then Nursey lost her patience, and although it wasn’t right, Retorted that for all she cared he might sit up all night. He approved of this arrangement, and he danced a jig for joy, And turned a somersault with glee; he was a naughty boy. And so they all went off to bed and left him sitting there, Right in the corner by the fire in Grandpa’s big armchair. He read his books and played his games,—he even sang a song And thought how lovely it would be to sit up all night long. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img78-1.png" width-obs="196" height-obs="270" alt="image" title="" /></div> But soon his games grew stupid, and his puzzles wouldn’t work; He drew himself up stiffly with a sudden little jerk, And he said, “I am not sleepy, and I love to play alone— And—I—think—” the rest was mumbled in a drowsy monotone. He leaned back on the cushions like that night he had the croup; His head began to wobble and his eyes began to droop; He closed them for a minute, just to see how it would seem, And straightway he was sound asleep, and dreamed this awful dream! He thought he saw a garden filled with flowers and roses gay, A great big gardener with a hoe came walking down his way; “Ah, ha!” exclaimed the gardener, as he clutched him by the head, “Here’s a fine specimen I’ve found; I’ll plant him in this bed!” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img79-1.png" width-obs="265" height-obs="260" alt="image" title="" /></div> He held the boy in one big hand, unheeding how he cried, And with the other dug a hole enormous, deep, and wide. He jammed the little fellow in, and said in gruffest tone, “This is the bed for naughty boys who won’t go to their own.” And then the dirt was shovelled in,—it covered up his toes, His ankles, knees, and waist and arms, and higher yet it rose. For still the gardener shovelled on, not noticing his cries; It came up to his chin and mouth—it almost reached his eyes; Just then he gathered all his strength and gave an awful scream, And woke himself, and put an end to that terrific dream. And he said, as Nursey tucked him up and bade him snugly rest, “When I am planted in a bed, I like my own the best.” <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Rivals</h2> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img81-1.png" width-obs="302" height-obs="420" alt="image" title="" /></div> Two well-built men, neither giant nor dwarf, Were Monsieur Elims and Mynheer Nworf. They lived in a town not far away, And spent their time in work and play. Now Monsieur Elims was loved by all— By rich and poor, by great and small. And Mynheer Nworf remarked one day, “Brother, explain to me, I pray, Why no one likes me as well as you, No matter what I may say or do. I have stores of knowledge packed in my head; I am learned and wise and very well read; I can dance, I can sing, I’m extremely polite; I am worth a large fortune all in my own right. But still,—and this question has caused me much thought,— While I am neglected, you’re everywhere sought.” Monsieur Elims replied: “My dear sir, that is true, But you see, I am I, and you see, you are you. If I receive praises and you receive blame, ’Tis doubtless because each lives up to his name.” You’ll find his defence rather puzzling, I fear; But read their names backward—the meaning is clear. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The New Cup</h2> “I’ve a lovely new cup from Uncle John,” Said Dorothy; “only see— It has beautiful golden letters on, And they spell ‘Remember Me.’” “Oho!” laughed Fred. “Why, Dorothy dear, They put that on mugs and plates: I’ve studied jography ’most a year, And I know the names of the States. And when you see that anywhere,— At least, since this fuss with Spain,— It’s the President who puts it there, And it means ‘Remember the Maine’!” <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>A Photographic Failure</h2> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img84-1.png" width-obs="145" height-obs="150" alt="image" title="" /></div> Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle Saw a patient Periwinkle With a kodak, sitting idly by a rill. Feeling a desire awaken For to have his picture taken, Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle stood stock-still. Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle Felt his brow begin to wrinkle, And his pose assume a sad and solemn style; But the Periwinkle trusted, As the focus he adjusted, That his customer would kindly try to smile. Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle Felt his eyes begin to twinkle, And his mouth took on a broad and open grin; Said the Periwinkle, sadly, “If you stretch your jaw so madly, I fear perhaps that I shall tumble in.” Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle Felt his hair begin to crinkle, As it rose up on his forehead in affright; Though his comrade spoke so mildly, Mr. Hinkle wondered wildly, How he could escape this dire and awful plight. Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle Said, “I fear it’s going to sprinkle, And really for a storm I’m not prepared.” Then without a further warning He politely said, “Good morning,” And the patient Periwinkle stood and stared. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img85-1.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="270" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>Christmas Gifts</h2> Ten Christmas presents standing in a line; Robert took the bicycle, then there were nine. Nine Christmas presents ranged in order straight; Bob took the steam engine, then there were eight. Eight Christmas presents—and one came from Devon; Robbie took the jackknife, then there were seven. Seven Christmas presents direct from St. Nick’s; Bobby took the candy box, then there were six. Six Christmas presents, one of them alive; Rob took the puppy dog, then there were five. Five Christmas presents yet on the floor; Bobbin took the soldier cap, then there were four. Four Christmas presents underneath the tree; Bobbet took the writing desk, then there were three. Three Christmas presents still in full view; Robin took the checker board, then there were two. Two Christmas presents, promising fun, Bobbles took the picture book, then there was one. One Christmas present—and now the list is done; Bobbinet took the sled, and then there were none. And the same happy child received every toy, So many nicknames had one little boy. <hr style="width: 65%;" />   <h2>Young America</h2> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img87-1.png" width-obs="297" height-obs="285" alt="image" title="" /></div> Wee Willie sat a-thinking, And he shook his curly head. Around him on the nursery floor His treasures lay outspread. Firecrackers and torpedoes, Trumpet and flag and drum, Rockets and pinwheels and paper caps, For Fourth of July had come. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img87-2.png" width-obs="92" height-obs="140" alt="image" title="" /></div> “But it makes me sort o’ sorry,” Wee Willie said with a sigh, “To think of those poor little English boys Without any Fourth of July.” <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>A Bicycle built for Two</h2> There was an ambitious young eel Who determined to ride on a wheel; But try as he might, He couldn’t ride right, In spite of his ardor and zeal. If he sat on the saddle to ride His tail only pedalled one side; And I’m sure you’ll admit That an eel couldn’t sit On a bicycle saddle astride. Or if he hung over the top, He could go, but he never could stop; For of course it is clear He had no way to steer, And under the wheel he would flop. His neighbor, observing the fun, Said, “I think that the thing can be done, If you’ll listen to me, You’ll quickly agree That two heads are better than one. “And this is my project, old chap, Around our two waists I will wrap This beautiful belt Of bottle-green felt And fasten it firm with a strap.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img89-1.png" width-obs="240" height-obs="191" alt="image" title="" /></div> This done, with a dignified mien The two squirmed up on the machine, And rode gayly away, Or at least, so they say, Who witnessed the wonderful scene. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img90-1.png" width-obs="250" height-obs="250" alt="image" title="" /></div> <h2>Dorothy’s Opinion</h2> Mamma has bought a calendar, And every single page Has pictures on of little girls ’Most just about my age. And when she bought it yesterday, Down at the big bazaar, She said, “What lovely little girls, How true to life they are.” But I don’t think they’re true to life, And I’ll just tell you why; They never have a rumpled frock Or ribbon bow awry. And though they play with cats and dogs, And rabbits and white mice, And sail their boats and fly their kites, They always look so nice. And I am sure no little girl That ever I have seen, Could play with dogs or sail a boat And keep her frock so clean. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img91-1.png" width-obs="209" height-obs="80" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Roll of Roly Poly Roy</h2> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img92-1.png" width-obs="57" height-obs="116" alt="image" title="" /></div> Once on a time a lad I knew— His sister called him Bubby; His cheeks were red, his eyes were blue, And he was plump and chubby. Indeed, he was so stout a boy, Some called him Roly Poly Roy; They called him that For he was fat And very plump and chubby. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img92-2.png" width-obs="140" height-obs="67" alt="image" title="" /></div> He caused his father grief profound, And made his mother worry, Because he’d roll along the ground When he was in a hurry. For as he couldn’t see his toes, He often tumbled on his nose; So, on the whole, ’Twas best to roll When he was in a hurry. “Get up!” the people urged, but he Replied, “There’s no use talking; I roll around because, you see, It’s easier than walking.” And though it looked extremely droll To see the lad lie down and roll, It was, forsooth, For that fat youth Far easier than walking. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img93-1.png" width-obs="131" height-obs="176" alt="image" title="" /></div> One day he thought he’d try to ride; Alas, he was so bulky, He tumbled off the other side, Which made him rather sulky. He heard his comrades jeer and scoff, Again he tried and tumbled off, And when he fell They’d shout and yell— Of course it made him sulky. Just out of town there was a place With rolling ground and hilly, And here Roy started for a race With Dick and Tom and Willy. You’ll know of course before you’re told That Roy just laid him down and rolled; And so, you see, He easily Beat Dick and Tom and Willy. That day two giants came along From Huncamunca Valley, Seeking some tenpins good and strong For their new bowling alley. They reached the hilly sort of place Just as our hero won the race; “Look at him roll!” They said. “He’ll bowl On our new bowling alley. “The other boys are squarely built; For tenpins they’ll do finely! No matter if a few get kilt,” And then they smiled benignly. Quickly they kidnapped ten small boys, All howling with a fearful noise; They took them all, And Roy for ball, And then they smiled benignly. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img95-1.png" width-obs="271" height-obs="398" alt="image" title="" /></div> They hurried to their home and then Began their barbarous bowling. They set in rows the children ten And then set Roy a-rolling. But as the giants were strong and great, They shot poor Roy at such a rate, And with such might, That out of sight Poor Roy was set a-rolling. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img96-1.png" width-obs="304" height-obs="184" alt="image" title="" /></div> He rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled, But soon, his fears dispelling, With happiness he did behold He’d safely reached his dwelling. Secure and safe from further harms, His mother caught him in her arms, And said with joy, “My darling boy, You’ve safely reached your dwelling.” Now rolling seems to him to be More dangerous than walking. And Roly Poly Roy you’ll see Along the sidewalks stalking. He’ll always have a certain fear That giants may be lurking near, And so he’ll go With motion slow Along the sidewalk stalking. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img97-1.png" width-obs="95" height-obs="190" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>My Barometer</h2> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img98-1.png" width-obs="168" height-obs="150" alt="image" title="" /></div> My little maid with golden hair Comes each morning for a kiss; And I know the day will be fine and fair When Polly looks like this. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img98-2.png" width-obs="142" height-obs="150" alt="image" title="" /></div> Or I know the clouds will frown and lower, The skies will be dull and gray, And perhaps there’ll be a passing shower, When Polly looks this way. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img98-3.png" width-obs="177" height-obs="150" alt="image" title="" /></div> But a violent storm of rain or snow I can prognosticate, For the sign will never fail, I know, When this is Polly’s pate. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Butter Betty Bought</h2> Betty Botta bought some butter; “But,” said she, “this butter’s bitter! If I put it in my batter It will make my batter bitter. But a bit o’ better butter Will but make my batter better.” Then she bought a bit o’ butter Better than the bitter butter, Made her bitter batter better. So ’twas better Betty Botta Bought a bit o’ better butter. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img100-1.png" width-obs="319" height-obs="250" alt="image" title="" /></div> <h2>A Marvel</h2> An old astronomer there was Who lived up in a tower, Named Ptolemy Copernicus Flammarion McGower. He said: “I can prognosticate With estimates correct; And when the skies I contemplate, I know what to expect. When dark’ning clouds obscure my sight, I think perhaps ’twill rain; And when the stars are shining bright, I know ’tis clear again.” And then abstractedly he scanned The heavens, hour by hour, Old Ptolemy Copernicus Flammarion McGower. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>An Alphabet Zoo</h2> A was an apt Alligator, Who wanted to be a head-waiter; He said, “I opine In that field I could shine, Because I am such a good skater.” B was a beggarly Bear, Who carefully curled his front hair; He said, “I would buy A red-spotted tie,— But I haven’t a penny to spare.” C was a cool Chimpanzee, Who went to an afternoon tea. When they said, “Will you take A caraway cake?” He greedily took twenty-three! D was a diligent Doe, In summer she shovelled the snow; In the spring and the fall She did nothing at all, And in winter the grass she would mow. E was an erudite Ermine, Who tried very hard to determine If he should earn a cent, How it ought to be spent, And decided to purchase a sermon. F was a fussy Flamingo, Who remarked to his family, “By jingo! I think I would go To that animal show, But they all talk such barbarous lingo.” G was a giddy Gazelle, Who never could learn how to spell; But she managed to pass To the head of her class, Because she did fractions so well. H was a haughty young Hawk, Who affected society talk; But when introduced At a large chicken roost He excitedly screamed out, “Oh, Lawk!” I was an idle Iguana, Who lived upon curried banana; With tears he’d protest That he never could rest Till he learned to sing “Eileen Alanna.” J was a jimp Jaguar, Who purchased a Spanish guitar; He played popular airs At fêtes and at fairs, And down at the Fancy Bazaar. K was a kind Kangaroo, Whose bonnet was always askew; So they asked her to wait While they put it on straight And fastened it firmly with glue. L was a lachrymose Leopard, Who ate up twelve sheep and a shepherd, But the real reason why He continued to cry Was his food was so lavishly peppered. M was a mischievous Marten, Who went to the Free Kindergarten; When they asked him to plat A gay-colored mat, He tackled the job like a Spartan. N was a naughty Nylghau, Who wandered too near a buzz saw. It cut off his toes, And the shrieks that arose Filled all of the neighbors with awe. O was an ossified Oyster, Who decided to enter a cloister. He could not return, So continued to yearn For his home in the sea, which was moister. P was a poor old Poll Parrot, Who had nothing to eat but a carrot, And nothing to wear But a wig of red hair, And nowhere to live but a garret. Q was a querulous Quab Who at every trifle would sob; He said, “I detest To wear a plaid vest, And I hate to eat corn from the cob!” R was a rollicking Ram, Attired in an old pillow sham. When asked if he’d call At the masquerade ball, He said, “I’ll go just as I am.” S was a shy Salamander, Who slept on a sunny veranda. She calmly reposed, But, alas! while she dozed They caught her and killed her and canned her. T was a tidy young Tapir, Who went out to bring in the paper; And when he came back He made no muddy track, For he wiped his feet clean on the scraper. U was a young Unicorn, The bravest that ever was born. They bought him a boat And they set him afloat, And straightway he sailed for Cape Horn. V was a vigorous Vulture, Who taught animals physical culture; When a pupil dropped dead, The kind teacher said, “You needn’t consider sepulture.” W was a wild Worm, All day he did nothing but squirm. They sent him to school, But he broke every rule, And left at the end of the term. X was a Xiphias brave, Who lived on the crest of the wave. To each fish he would say, “Good day, sir, good day!” And then a polite bow he gave. Y was a young Yellowhammer, Who raised a ridiculous clamor; And he chattered until An owl said, “Keep still! I’m trying to study my grammar.” Z was a zealous old Zibet, Toboggans he tried to prohibit. If any one tried To take a sly slide, He ordered him hanged on a gibbet. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>Found Wanting</h2> <div id="content"> <div class="wrap_area"> <ANTIMG src="images/img107-1.png" width-obs="271" height-obs="354" alt="image" title="" /> <div class="shape_wrap"> <div style="width: 170px; height: 140px;"></div> <div style="width: 260px; height: 115px;"></div> <div style="width: 1px; height: 115px;"></div> </div> There lived a wondrous sculptor once, a genius in his way, Named Phidias Praxiteles Canova Merryday. He sat within his studio and said, “I really must Begin a Rhodian anaglyptic ceroplastic bust. “My customers demand them, their fame rings near and far, But then, alas, the trouble is, I don’t know what they are. Though I could carve a Venus or a Belvedere with ease, My wondrous skill is lacking when it comes to carving these. “I cast and cut and chisel, I model and I mould, I copy poses picturesque from studies new and old; In marble, bronze, and potter’s clay, in wax and wood and stone I carve the old-time statues with improvements of my own. </div> </div> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img108-1.png" width-obs="231" height-obs="251" alt="image" title="" /></div> “I have Apollo on a horse, Minerva on a wheel, Hercules going fishing with his basket and his creel. A Mercury on roller-skates, Diana with a hat, And Venus playing tennis with Achilles at the bat. “Yet these my customers pass by, and ask with interest keen, For things with long and tiresome names,—I don’t know what they mean. And so I let my hammers hang, and let my chisels rust, For I cannot do an anaglyptic ceroplastic bust.” <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>A Tragic Tale of Tea</h2> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img109-1.png" width-obs="203" height-obs="102" alt="image" title="" /></div> The Beetle was blind, and the Bat was blinder, And they went to take tea with the Scissors-grinder. The Scissors-grinder had gone away Across the ocean to spend the day; But he’d tied his bell to the grapevine swing. The Bat and the Beetle heard it ring, And neither the Beetle nor Bat could see Why no one offered them any tea. So, polite and patient, they’re waiting yet For the cup of tea they expect to get. <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img109-2.png" width-obs="181" height-obs="232" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>The Erratic Rat</h2> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/img110-1.png" width-obs="126" height-obs="137" alt="image" title="" /></div> There was a ridiculous Rat Who was awfully puffy and fat. “I’ll carry,” he said, “This plate on my head, ’Twill answer in place of a hat.” <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/img110-2.png" width-obs="178" height-obs="126" alt="image" title="" /></div> And then he remarked with a frown, “I suppose that I must have a gown; I’ll make me a kilt Of this old crazy-quilt, To wear when I’m going to town. “And of course, though the weather is warm, It may be there’ll come up a storm; An umbrella I’ll make Of a caraway cake, It’ll match with my whole uniform. And I’ll carry a bottle of ink In case I should wish for a drink; And this flat-iron so sweet I’ll take with me to eat, And now I am ready, I think.” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img111-1.png" width-obs="215" height-obs="175" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img112-1.png" width-obs="250" height-obs="250" alt="image" title="" /></div> <h2>The Two Friends</h2> A Spider and a Centipede went out to take a walk; The Centipede said frankly, “I will listen while you talk, But I may appear distracted, or assume a vacant stare, Because to keep my feet in step requires my constant care.” Said the Spider: “I appreciate your most peculiar case, And your feet must be quite handy when you want to run a race; But though you gain in some ways, in some other ways you lose; And, of course, my friend, you must be quite extravagant in shoes.” “Ah! yes. Ah! yes,” a heavy sigh escaped the Centipede; “And I have other trials, too;—my life is hard indeed! Why, sometimes when I’m very tired, a long, long time it takes To ascertain with certainty which foot it is that aches. “And when I go to dancing-class on Saturdays at three, I find the First Position very difficult for me. Though I put my best foot foremost, and good time I try to keep, To my chagrin, I often find a foot or two asleep. Athletics I attempted, but, alas! I must admit That every exercise I tried I put my foot in it. I think I’ll join a foot-ball team,—as many friends suggest,— Before I’ve one foot in the grave and gout in all the rest. But now I’ll say good-morning; for, my friend, I have to stop To get my boots blacked neatly at this little boot-black’s shop; And, as you may imagine, it will keep me here some time, But, what is worse, I’ll have to pay him many a hard-earned dime.” The Spider said good-morning, and pursued his way alone, And as he went he murmured, in a thoughtful undertone: “I’m a happy little Spider, and I’m very glad indeed, That I was born an octoped and not a centipede!” <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/img114-1.png" width-obs="108" height-obs="100" alt="image" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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