That seemed to suit James Edgar John—­
A saddening thing to think upon,
For he grew sad and sick of life
Because he could not find a wife.

One day young James was passing by
(A look of sorrow in his eye)
The shop of Mr Roland Rutter,
When Lucy Loo came out with butter.

At once James Edgar John said, “That
Is just the girl for me!  She’s fat.” 
He offered her his heart and hand
And prospects of his father’s land.

The Reverend Saul Sylvester Slight
Performed the simple marriage rite. 
The happy couple went their way,
And lived and loved unto this day.

Events cannot be far foreseen;
And all ths joy might not have been
If Mr Jeremiah Jeffers
Had kept his pair of spotted heifers.

TEA TALK

‘Excuse me if I sit on you,’ the cup said to the saucer. 
   ‘I fear I’ve been here all the afternoon.’ 
‘Spare excuses,’ said the saucer; ‘you have sat on me before, sir.’ 
   ‘Oh, I’ll stir him up directly,’ said the spoon. 
‘Stop your clatter!  Stop your clatter!’ cried the bread-and-butter platter
   ‘Tittle-tattle!’ sneered the tea-pot, with a shrug;
‘Now, the most important question is my chronic indigestion.’ 
   ‘Ah, you’ve taken too much tannin,’ jeered the jug. 
‘Hey, hey, hey!’ sang the silver-plated tray,
‘It’s time you had your faces washed.  I’ve come to clear away!’

THE LOOKING-GLASS

When I look into the looking glass
   I’m always sure to see—­
No matter how I dodge about—­
   Me, looking out at me.

I often wonder as I look,
   And those strange features spy,
If I, in there, think I’m as plain
   As I, out here, think I.

WOOLLOOMOOLOO

Here’s a ridiculous riddle for you: 
   How many o’s are there in Woolloomooloo? 
Two for the W, two for the m,
  Four for the l’s, and that’s plenty for them.

* * *

I wonder what the Jacks have got to laugh and laugh about
I’m sure the worms don’t see the joke when Jacky digs them out.

I wonder which is best:  a rich plum-pudding stuffed with plums,
Or lemon ice, or plain boiled rice, or long-division sums.

* * *

THE BARBER

I’d like to be a barber, and learn to shave and clip,
Calling out, “Next please!” and pocketing my tip. 
All day I’d hear my scissors going, “Snip, Snip, Snip;”
I’d lather people’s faces, and their noses I would grip
While I shaved most carefully along the upper lip. 
   But I wouldn’t be a barber if . . . 
      The razor was to slip. 
         Would you?

FARMER JACK

Old farmer Jack gazed on his wheat,
   And feared the frost would nip it. 
Said he, “it’s nearly seven feet—­
   I must begin to strip it.”