Home from the shop came Maud’s new
A hat of monstrous size!
It almost filled the tiny flat
Before her ravished eyes.
When, sch-u-u! up through the box so proud
The rocket flared and spluttered.
“I said that hat was all too loud!”
Her peevish husband muttered.
[Illustration: Thirteenth flat]
Tom’s pap had helped him start his
And all would have been fine
Had not the rocket, raising Cain,
Blocked traffic on the line.
It blew the engine into scrap,
As in a fit of passion.
“Who would have thought that toy,” said pap,
“Would blow up in such fashion!”
[Illustration: Fourteenth flat]
Orlando Pease, quite at his ease,
The “Morning Star” was reading.
“My dear,” said he to Mrs. Pease,
“Here’s a report worth heeding.”
The rocket then in wanton sport
Flashed through the printed pages.
The lady gasped, “A wild report!”
Then swooned by easy stages.
[Illustration: Fifteenth flat]
Doc Danby was a stupid guy,
So, lest he sleep too late,
He placed a tattoo clock near by
To waken him at eight.
But, ah! the rocket smote that clock
And smashed its way clean through it!
“You have a fine alarm,” said Doc,
“But, say, you overdo it!”
[Illustration: Sixteenth flat]
A penny-liner, Abram Stout,
Was writing a description.
“The flame shot up,” he pounded out—
Then threw a mild conniption.
For through his Flemington there shied
A rocket, hot and mystic.
“I didn’t mean to be,” he cried,
“So deuced realistic!”
[Illustration: Seventeenth flat]
Gus Gummer long had set his head
Upon some strange invention.
“Be careful, Gus,” his good wife said;
“It might explode. I mention—”
Just then the pesky rocket flared
And wrecked that Yankee notion.
“I feared as much!” his wife declared;
Then fainted from emotion.
[Illustration: Eighteenth flat]
While Burt was on his hobby-horse
And riding it like mad,
The rocket on its fiery course
Upset the startled lad.
The frightened pony plunged a lot,
Like Fury playing tag.
“Whoa, Spot!” said Burt. “Who would have thought
You such a fiery nag!”