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The following sections, if they exist, are offprint from Beacham's Guide to Literature for Young Adults: "About the Author", "Overview", "Setting", "Literary Qualities", "Social Sensitivity", "Topics for Discussion", "Ideas for Reports and Papers". (c)1994-2005, by Walton Beacham.
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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
LAUGHABLE LYRICS. | 1 |
THE TWO OLD BACHELORS. | 2 |
THE POBBLE WHO HAS NO TOES. | 6 |
THE NEW VESTMENTS. | 6 |
THE QUANGLE WANGLE’S HAT. | 8 |
9 | |
THE AKOND OF SWAT. | 9 |
NONSENSE BOTANY. | 11 |
NONSENSE ALPHABETS. | 11 |
THE DONG WITH A LUMINOUS NOSE.
[Illustration]
When awful darkness and silence
reign
Over the great Gromboolian
plain,
Through
the long, long wintry nights;
When the angry breakers roar
As they beat on the rocky
shore;
When
Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills of the Chankly
Bore,—
Then, through the vast and
gloomy dark
There moves what seems a fiery
spark,—
A
lonely spark with silvery rays
Piercing
the coal-black night,—
A
Meteor strange and bright:
Hither and thither the vision
strays,
A
single lurid light.
Slowly it wanders, pauses,
creeps,—
Anon it sparkles, flashes,
and leaps;
And ever as onward it gleaming
goes
A light on the Bong-tree stems
it throws.
And those who watch at that
midnight hour
From Hall or Terrace or lofty
Tower,
Cry, as the wild light passes
along,—
“The
Dong! the Dong!
The wandering
Dong through the forest goes!
The
Dong! the Dong!
The Dong with
a luminous Nose!”
Long
years ago
The Dong was happy
and gay,
Till he fell in love with
a Jumbly Girl
Who came to those
shores one day.
For the Jumblies came in a
sieve, they did,—
Landing at eve near the Zemmery
Fidd
Where
the Oblong Oysters grow,
And the rocks
are smooth and gray.
And all the woods and the
valleys rang
With the Chorus they daily
and nightly sang,—
“Far
and few, far and few,
Are
the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their
heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And
they went to sea in a sieve.”
Happily, happily passed those
days!
While the cheerful
Jumblies staid;
They
danced in circlets all night long,
To
the plaintive pipe of the lively Dong,
In moonlight,
shine, or shade.
For day and night he was always
there
By the side of the Jumbly
Girl so fair,
With her sky-blue hands and
her sea-green hair;
Till the morning came of that
hateful day
When the Jumblies sailed in
their sieve away,
And the Dong was left on the
cruel shore
Gazing, gazing for evermore,—
Ever keeping his weary eyes
on
That pea-green sail on the
far horizon,—
Singing the Jumbly Chorus
still
As he sate all day on the
grassy hill,—
“Far
and few, far and few,
Are
the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their
heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And
they went to sea in a sieve.”
But when the sun was low in
the West,
The
Dong arose and said,—
“What little sense I
once possessed
Has
quite gone out of my head!”
And since that day he wanders
still
By lake and forest, marsh
and hill,
Singing, “O somewhere,
in valley or plain,
Might I find my Jumbly Girl
again!
For ever I’ll seek by
lake and shore
Till I find my Jumbly Girl
once more!”
Playing
a pipe with silvery squeaks,
Since
then his Jumbly Girl he seeks;
And
because by night he could not see,
He
gathered the bark of the Twangum Tree
On
the flowery plain that grows.
And
he wove him a wondrous Nose,—
A
Nose as strange as a Nose could be!
Of vast proportions and painted
red,
And tied with cords to the back of his head.
In a hollow rounded space it ended
With a luminous Lamp within suspended,
All fenced about
With a bandage stout
To prevent the wind from blowing it out;
And with holes all round to send the light
In gleaming rays on the dismal night
And now each night, and all night long,
Over those plains still roams the Dong;
And above the wail of the Chimp and Snipe
You may hear the squeak of his plaintive pipe,
While ever he seeks, but seeks in vain,
To meet with his Jumbly Girl again;
Lonely and wild, all night he goes,—
The Dong with a luminous Nose!
And all who watch at the midnight hour,
From Hall or Terrace or lofty Tower,
Cry, as they trace the Meteor bright,
Moving along through the dreary night,—
“This is the hour when forth he goes,
The Dong with a luminous Nose!
Yonder, over the plain he goes,—
He goes!
He goes,—
The Dong with a luminous Nose!”
[Illustration]
Two old Bachelors were living in one house;
One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse.
Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the
Mouse,—
“This happens just in time! For we’ve
nothing in the house,
Save a tiny slice of lemon and a teaspoonful of honey,
And what to do for dinner—since we haven’t
any money?
And what can we expect if we haven’t any dinner,
But to lose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing
thinner?”
Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the
Muffin,—
“We might cook this little Mouse, if we only
had some Stuffin’!
If we had but Sage and Onion we could do extremely
well;
But how to get that Stuffin’ it is difficult
to tell!”
Those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town
And asked for Sage and Onion as they wandered up and
down;
They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to
be found
In the Shops, or in the Market, or in all the Gardens
round.
But some one said, “A hill there is, a little
to the north,
And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth;
And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient
Sage,—
An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing
page.
Climb up, and seize him by the toes,—all
studious as he sits,—
And pull him down, and chop him into endless little
bits!
Then mix him with your Onion (cut up likewise into
Scraps),—
When your Stuffin’ will be ready, and very good—perhaps.”
Those two old Bachelors without loss of time
The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb;
And at the top, among the rocks, all seated in a nook,
They saw that Sage a-reading of a most enormous book.
“You earnest Sage!” aloud they cried, “your book you’ve read enough in! We wish to chop you into bits to mix you into Stuffin’!”
But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful
book,
At those two Bachelors’ bald heads a certain
aim he took;
And over Crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous
down,—
At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or
field or town;
And when they reached their house, they found (besides
their want
of
Stuffin’),
The Mouse had fled—and, previously, had
eaten up the Muffin.
They left their home in silence by the once convivial
door;
And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard
of more.
[Illustration: Sheet Music—The Pelicans]
[Illustration]
The Pelican chorus.
King and Queen of the Pelicans
we;
No other Birds so grand
we see!
None but we have feet like
fins!
With lovely leathery throats
and chins!
Ploffskin,
Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We
think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin,
Ploshkin, Pelican Jill!
We
think so then, and we thought so still
We live on the Nile.
The Nile we love.
By night we sleep on the cliffs
above;
By day we fish, and at eve
we stand
On long bare islands of yellow
sand.
And when the sun sinks slowly
down,
And the great rock walls grow
dark and brown,
Where the purple river rolls
fast and dim
And the Ivory Ibis starlike
skim,
Wing to wing we dance around,
Stamping our feet with a flumpy
sound,
Opening our mouths as Pelicans
ought;
And this is the song we nightly
snort,—
Ploffskin,
Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We
think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin,
Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We
think so then, and we thought so still!
Last year came out our Daughter
Dell,
And all the Birds received
her well.
To do her honor a feast we
made
For every bird that can swim
or wade,—
Herons and Gulls, and Cormorants
Yes, they came; and among
the rest
The King of the Cranes all
grandly dressed.
Such a lovely tail! Its
feathers float
Between the ends of his blue
dress-coat;
With pea-green trowsers all
so neat,
And a delicate frill to hide
his feet
(For though no one speaks
of it, every one knows
He has got no webs between
his toes).
As soon as he saw our Daughter
Dell,
In violent love that Crane
King fell,—
On seeing her waddling form
so fair,
With a wreath of shrimps in
her short white hair.
And before the end of the
next long day
Our Dell had given her heart
away;
For the King of the Cranes
had won that heart
With a Crocodile’s egg
and a large fish-tart.
She vowed to marry the King
of the Cranes,
Leaving the Nile for stranger
plains;
And away they flew in a gathering
crowd
Of endless birds in a lengthening
cloud.
Ploffskin,
Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We
think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin,
Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We
think so then, and we thought so still!
And far away in the twilight
sky
We heard them singing a lessening
cry,—
Farther and farther, till
out of sight,
And we stood alone in the
silent night!
Often since, in the nights
of June,
We sit on the sand and watch
the moon,—
She has gone to the great
Gromboolian Plain,
And we probably never shall
meet again!
Oft, in the long still nights
of June,
We sit on the rocks and watch
the moon,—
She dwells by the streams
of the Chankly Bore.
And we probably never shall
see her more.
Ploffskin,
Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We
think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin,
Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We
think so then, and we thought so still!
[Illustration: Sheet Music—The Yonghy Bonghy Bo]
The courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
[Illustration]
I.
On the Coast of Coromandel
Where
the early pumpkins blow,
In
the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Two old chairs, and half a
candle,
One old jug without a handle,—
These
were all his worldly goods:
In
the middle of the woods,
These
were all the worldly goods
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy
Bo.
II.
Once, among the Bong-trees
walking
Where
the early pumpkins blow,
To
a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of
Dorking,—
“’Tis
the Lady Jingly Jones!
On
that little heap of stones
Sits
the Lady Jingly Jones!”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
III.
“Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
Will you come and be my wife?”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
“I am tired of living singly—
On this coast so wild and shingly,—
I’m a-weary of my life;
If you’ll come and be my wife,
Quite serene would be my life!”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
IV.
“On this Coast of Coromandel
Shrimps and watercresses grow,
Prawns are plentiful and cheap,”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
“You shall have my chairs and candle,
And my jug without a handle!
Gaze upon the rolling deep
(Fish is plentiful and cheap);
As the sea, my love is deep!”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
V.
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began to flow,—
“Your proposal comes too late,
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
I would be your wife most gladly!”
(Here she twirled her fingers madly,)
“But in England I’ve a mate!
Yes! you’ve asked me far too late,
For in England I’ve a mate,
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
VI.
“Mr. Jones (his name is Handel,—
Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
Dorking fowls delights to send,
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Keep, oh, keep your chairs and candle,
And your jug without a handle,—
I can merely be your friend!
Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
I will give you three, my friend!
Mr. Yonghy-Bongy-Bo!
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
VII.
“Though you’ve such
a tiny body,
And your head so large doth grow,—
Though your hat may blow away,
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Though you’re such a Hoddy Doddy,
Yet I wish that I could modi-
fy the words I needs must say!
Will you please to go away?
That is all I have to say,
Mr. Yongby-Bonghy-Bo!
Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!”
VIII.
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle.
“You’re the Cove,” he said,
“for me;
On your back beyond the sea,
Turtle, you shall carry me!”
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
[Illustration]
IX.
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle swiftly go;
Holding fast upon his shell
Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primaeval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell,
“Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!”
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
X.
From the Coast of Coromandel
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle
Still she weeps, and daily moans;
On that little heap of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
[Illustration]
I.
The Pobble who has no toes
Had
once as many as we;
When they said, “Some
day you may lose them all;”
He
replied, “Fish fiddle de-dee!”
And his Aunt Jobiska made
him drink
Lavender water tinged with
pink;
For she said, “The World
in general knows
There’s nothing so good
for a Pobble’s toes!”
II.
The Pobble who has no toes,
Swam
across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped
his nose
In
a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said,
“No harm
Can come to his toes if his
nose is warm;
And it’s perfectly known
that a Pobble’s toes
Are safe—provided
he minds his nose.”
III.
The Pobble swam fast and well,
And
when boats or ships came near him,
He tinkledy-binkledy-winkled
a bell
So
that all the world could hear him.
And all the Sailors and Admirals
cried,
When they saw him nearing
the further side,—
“He has gone to fish, for
his Aunt Jobiska’s
Runcible Cat with crimson
whiskers!”
IV.
But before he touched the
shore,—
The
shore of the Bristol Channel,
A sea-green Porpoise carried
away
His
wrapper of scarlet flannel.
And when he came to observe
his feet,
Formerly garnished with toes
so neat,
His face at once became forlorn
On perceiving that all his
toes were gone!
V.
And nobody ever knew,
From
that dark day to the present,
Whoso had taken the Pobble’s
toes,
In
a manner so far from pleasant.
Whether the shrimps or crawfish
gray,
Or crafty Mermaids stole them
away,
Nobody knew; and nobody knows
How the Pobble was robbed
of his twice five toes!
VI.
The Pobble who has no toes
Was
placed in a friendly Bark,
And they rowed him back, and
carried him up
To
his Aunt Jobiska’s Park.
And she made him a feast,
at his earnest wish,
Of eggs and buttercups fried
with fish;
And she said, “It’s
a fact the whole world knows,
That Pobbles are happier without
their toes.”
There lived an old man in
the Kingdom of Tess,
Who invented a purely original
dress;
And when it was perfectly
made and complete,
He opened the door and walked
into the street.
By way of a hat he’d
a loaf of Brown Bread,
In the middle of which he
inserted his head;
His Shirt was made up of no
end of dead Mice,
The warmth of whose skins
was quite fluffy and nice;
His Drawers were of Rabbit-skins,
so were his Shoes;
His Stockings were skins,
but it is not known whose;
His Waistcoat and Trowsers
were made of Pork Chops;
His Buttons were Jujubes and
Chocolate Drops;
His Coat was all Pancakes,
with Jam for a border,
And a girdle of Biscuits to
keep it in order;
And he wore over all, as a
screen from bad weather,
A Cloak of green Cabbage-leaves
stitched all together.
He had walked a short way,
when he heard a great noise,
Of all sorts of Beasticles,
Birdlings, and Boys;
And from every long street
and dark lane in the town
Beasts, Birdies, and Boys
in a tumult rushed down.
Two Cows and a Calf ate his
Cabbage-leaf Cloak;
Four Apes seized his Girdle,
which vanished like smoke;
Three Kids ate up half of
his Pancaky Coat,
And the tails were devour’d
by an ancient He Goat;
An army of Dogs in a twinkling
tore up his
Pork Waistcoat and Trowsers
to give to their Puppies;
And while they were growling,
and mumbling the Chops,
Ten Boys prigged the Jujubes
and Chocolate Drops.
He tried to run back to his
house, but in vain,
For scores of fat Pigs came
again and again:
They rushed out of stables
and hovels and doors;
They tore off his stockings,
his shoes, and his drawers;
And now from the housetops
with screechings descend
Striped, spotted, white, black,
and gray Cats without end:
They jumped on his shoulders
and knocked off his hat,
When Crows, Ducks, and Hens
made a mincemeat of that;
They speedily flew at his
sleeves in a trice,
And utterly tore up his Shirt
of dead Mice;
They swallowed the last of
his Shirt with a squall,—
Whereon he ran home with no
clothes on at all.
And he said to himself, as
he bolted the door,
“I will not wear a similar
dress any more,
Any more, any more, any more,
never more!”
MR. AND MRS. DISCOBBOLOS.
I.
Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Climbed to the top of a wall.
And they sate to watch the sunset sky,
And to hear the Nupiter Piffkin cry,
And the Biscuit Buffalo call.
They took up a roll and some Camomile tea,
And both were as happy as happy could be,
Till Mrs. Discobbolos said,—
“Oh! W! X! Y!
Z!
It has just come into my head,
Suppose we should happen to fall!!!!!
Darling Mr. Discobbolos!
II.
“Suppose we should fall down
flumpetty,
Just like pieces of stone,
On to the thorns, or into the moat,
What would become of your new green coat?
And might you not break a bone?
It never occurred to me before,
That perhaps we shall never go down any more!”
And Mrs. Discobbolos said,
“Oh! W! X! Y!
Z!
What put it into your head
To climb up this wall, my own
Darling Mr. Discobbolos?”
III.
Mr. Discobbolos answered,
“At first it gave me pain,
And I felt my ears turn perfectly pink
When your exclamation made me think
We might never get down again!
But now I believe it is wiser far
To remain for ever just where we are.”
And Mr. Discobbolos said,
“Oh! W! X! Y!
Z!
It has just come into my head
We shall never go down again,
Dearest Mrs. Discobbolos!”
IV.
So Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Stood up and began to sing,—
“Far away from hurry and strife
Here we will pass the rest of life,
Ding a dong, ding dong, ding!
We want no knives nor forks nor chairs,
No tables nor carpets nor household cares;
From worry of life we’ve fled;
Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
There is no more trouble ahead,
Sorrow or any such thing,
For Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos!”
[Illustration]
I.
On the top of the Crumpetty Tree
The Quangle Wangle sat,
But his face you could not see,
On account of his Beaver Hat.
For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and bibbons on every side,
And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,
So that nobody ever could see the face
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
II.
The Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree,
“Jam, and jelly, and bread
Are the best of food for me!
But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree
The plainer than ever it seems to me
That very few people come this way
And that life on the whole is far from gay!”
Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.
III.
But there came to the Crumpetty
Tree
Mr. and Mrs. Canary;
And they said, “Did ever you see
Any spot so charmingly airy?
May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?
Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
O please let us come and build a nest
Of whatever material suits you best,
Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!”
IV.
And besides, to the Crumpetty Tree
Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;
The Snail and the Bumble-Bee,
The Frog and the Fimble Fowl
(The Fimble Fowl, with a Corkscrew leg);
And all of them said, “We humbly beg
We may build our homes on your lovely Hat,—
Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!”
V.
And the Golden Grouse came
there,
And
the Pobble who has no toes,
And the small Olympian bear,
And
the Dong with a luminous nose.
And the Blue Baboon who played
the flute,
And the Orient Calf from the
Land of Tute,
And the Attery Squash, and
the Bisky Bat,—
All came and built on the
lovely Hat
Of the Quangle
Wangle Quee.
VI.
And the Quangle Wangle said
To
himself on the Crumpetty Tree,
“When all these creatures
move
What
a wonderful noise there’ll be!”
And at night by the light
of the Mulberry moon
They danced to the Flute of
the Blue Baboon,
On the broad green leaves
of the Crumpetty Tree,
And all were as happy as happy
could be,
With the Quangle
Wangle Quee.
THE CUMMERBUND. An Indian Poem.
I.
She sate upon her Dobie,
To watch the Evening Star,
And all the Punkahs, as they passed,
Cried, “My! how fair
you are!”
Around her bower, with quivering leaves,
The tall Kamsamahs grew,
And Kitmutgars in wild festoons
Hung down from Tchokis blue.
II.
Below her home the river rolled
With soft meloobious sound,
Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam,
In myriads circling round.
Above, on tallest trees remote
Green Ayahs perched alone,
And all night long the Mussak moan’d
Its melancholy tone.
III.
And where the purple Nullahs threw
Their branches far and wide,
And silvery Goreewallahs flew
In silence, side by side,
The little Bheesties’ twittering cry
Rose on the flagrant air,
And oft the angry Jampan howled
Deep in his hateful lair.
IV.
She sate upon her Dobie,
She heard the Nimmak hum,
When all at once a cry arose,
“The Cummerbund is come!”
In vain she fled: with open jaws
The angry monster followed,
And so (before assistance came)
That Lady Fair was swollowed.
V.
They sought in vain for even a bone
Respectfully to bury;
They said, “Hers was a dreadful fate!”
(And Echo answered, “Very.”)
They nailed her Dobie to the wall,
Where last her form was seen,
And underneath they wrote these words,
In yellow, blue, and green:
“Beware, ye Fair! Ye Fair, beware!
Nor sit out late at night,
Lest horrid Cummerbunds should come,
And swollow you outright.”
Note.—First published in Times of India, Bombay, July, 1874.
Who, or why, or which, or
what, Is the Akond of swat?
Is he tall or short, or dark
or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or
a sofa or chair, or squat,
The
Akond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young
or old?
Does he drink his soup and
his coffee cold, or hot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber
or talk,
And when riding abroad does
he gallop or walk, or trot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez,
or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress,
a bed, or a mat, or a cot,
The
Akond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand
size,
Does he cross his T’s and finish his I’s
with a Dot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely
clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
or blot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely
well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
or plot,
At
the Akond of Swat?
If he catches them then, either
old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
or shot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Do his people prig in the lanes
or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
garotte?
O
the Akond of Swat!
Does he study the wants of his
own dominion?
Or doesn’t he care for public opinion
a jot,
The
Akond of Swat?
To amuse his mind do his people
show him
Pictures, or any one’s last new poem,
or what,
For
the Akond of Swat?
At night if he suddenly screams
and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
or a lot,
For
the Akond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, tea, or
tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
or a Dot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he like to lie on his back
in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
SHALLOTT,
The
Akond of Swat?
Is he quiet, or always making a
fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or a Russ,
or a Scot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he like to sit by the
calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a
dark green cave, or a GROTT,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he drink small beer from
a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or
a cup? or a mug? or a pot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he beat his wife with
a gold-topped pipe,
When she lets the gooseberries
grow too ripe, or rot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a white tie when
he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with
ends, or a knot,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he like new cream, and hate
mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,
or not,
The
Akond of Swat?
Does he teach his subjects to roast
and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake,
in a yacht,
The
Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
Is
the Akond of Swat!
Note.—For the existence of this potentate see Indian newspapers, passim. The proper way to read the verses is to make an immense emphasis on the monosyllabic rhymes, which indeed ought to be shouted out by a chorus.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Armchairia Comfortabilis.]
[Illustration: Bassia Palealensis.]
[Illustration: Bubblia Blowpipia.]
[Illustration: Bluebottlia Buzztilentia.]
[Illustration: Crabbia Horrida.]
[Illustration: Smalltoothcombia Domestica.]
[Illustration: Knutmigrata Simplice.]
[Illustration: Tureenia Ladlecum.]
[Illustration: Puffia Leatherbellowsa.]
[Illustration: Queeriflora Babyoeides.]
* * * * *
A
[Illustration]
A was an Area Arch
Where washerwomen sat;
They made a lot of lovely starch
To starch Papa’s Cravat.
B
[Illustration]
B was a Bottle blue,
Which was not very small;
Papa he filled it full of beer,
And then he drank it all.
C
[Illustration]
C was Papa’s gray Cat,
Who caught a squeaky Mouse;
She pulled him by his twirly tail
All about the house.
D
[Illustration]
D was Papa’s white Duck,
Who had a curly tail;
One day it ate a great fat frog,
Besides a leetle snail.
E
[Illustration]
E was a little Egg,
Upon the breakfast table;
Papa came in and ate it up
As fast as he was able.
F
[Illustration]
F was a little Fish.
Cook in the river took it
Papa said, “Cook! Cook! bring a dish!
And, Cook! be quick and cook it!”
G
[Illustration]
G was Papa’s new Gun;
He put it in a box;
And then he went and bought a bun,
And walked about the Docks.
H
[Illustration]
H was Papa’s new Hat;
He wore it on his head;
Outside it was completely black,
But inside it was red.
I
[Illustration]
I was an Inkstand new,
Papa he likes to use it;
He keeps it in his pocket now,
For fear that he should lose it.
J
[Illustration]
J was some Apple Jam,
Of which Papa ate part;
But all the rest he took away
And stuffed into a tart.
K
[Illustration]
K was a great new Kite;
Papa he saw it fly
Above a thousand chimney pots,
And all about the sky.
L
[Illustration]
L was a fine new Lamp;
But when the wick was lit,
Papa he said, “This Light ain’t good!
I cannot read a bit!”
M
[Illustration]
M was a dish of mince;
It looked so good to eat!
Papa, he quickly ate it up,
And said, “This is a treat!”
N
[Illustration]
N was a Nut that grew
High up upon a tree;
Papa, who could not reach it, said,
“That’s much too high for
me!”
O
[Illustration]
O was an Owl who flew
All in the dark away,
Papa said, “What an owl you are!
Why don’t you fly by day?”
P
[Illustration]
P was a little Pig,
Went out to take a walk;
Papa he said, “If Piggy dead,
He’d all turn into Pork!”
Q
[Illustration]
Q was a Quince that hung
Upon a garden tree;
Papa he brought it with him home,
And ate it with his tea.
R
[Illustration]
R was a Railway Rug
Extremely large and warm;
Papa he wrapped it round his head,
In a most dreadful storm.
S
[Illustration]
S was Papa’s new Stick,
Papa’s new thumping Stick,
To thump extremely wicked boys,
Because it was so thick.
T
[Illustration]
T was a tumbler full
Of Punch all hot and good;
Papa he drank it up, when in
The middle of a wood.
U
[Illustration]
U was a silver urn,
Full of hot scalding water;
Papa said, “If that Urn were mine,
I’d give it to my daughter!”
V
[Illustration]
V was a Villain; once
He stole a piece of beef.
Papa he said, “Oh, dreadful man!
That Villain is a Thief!”
W
[Illustration]
W was a Watch of Gold:
It told the time of day,
So that Papa knew when to come,
And when to go away.
X
[Illustration]
X was King Xerxes, whom
Papa much wished to know;
But this he could not do, because
Xerxes died long ago.
Y
[Illustration]
Y was a Youth, who kicked
And screamed and cried like mad;
Papa he said, “Your conduct is
Abominably bad!”
Z
[Illustration]
Z was a Zebra striped
And streaked with lines of black;
Papa said once, he thought he’d like
A ride upon his back.
ALPHABET, No. 6.
A tumbled down, and hurt his Arm, against a bit of wood,
B said. “My Boy, oh, do not cry; it cannot do you good!”
C said, “A Cup of Coffee hot can’t do you any harm.”
D said, “A Doctor should be fetched, and he would cure the arm.”
E said, “An Egg beat up with milk would quickly make him well.”
F said, “A Fish, if broiled, might cure, if only by the smell.”
G said, “Green Gooseberry fool, the best of cures I hold.”
H said, “His Hat should be kept on, to keep him from the cold.”
I said, “Some Ice upon his head will make him better soon.”
J said, “Some Jam, if spread on bread, or given in a spoon!”
K said, “A Kangaroo is here,—this picture let him see.”
L said, “A Lamp pray keep alight, to make some barley tea.”
M said, “A Mulberry or two might give him satisfaction.”
N said, “Some Nuts, if rolled about, might be a slight attraction.”
O said, “An Owl might make him laugh, if only it would wink.”
P said, “Some Poetry might be read aloud, to make him think.”
Q said, “A Quince I recommend,—a Quince, or else a Quail.”
R said, “Some Rats might make him move, if fastened by their tail.”
S said, “A Song should now be sung, in hopes to make him laugh!”
T said, “A Turnip might avail, if sliced or cut in half!”
U said, “An Urn, with water hot, place underneath his chin!”
V said, “I’ll stand upon a chair, and play a Violin!”
W said, “Some Whisky-Whizzgigs fetch, some marbles and a ball!”
X said, “Some double XX ale would be the best of all!”
Y said, “Some Yeast mixed up with salt would make a perfect plaster!”
Z said, “Here is a box of
Zinc! Get in, my little master!
We’ll shut you up! We’ll
nail you down! We will, my little
master!
We think we’ve all heard quite
enough of this your sad
disaster!”