Home from the shop came Maud’s new hat—­
    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]

FOURTEENTH FLAT

  Tom’s pap had helped him start his train,
    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]

FIFTEENTH 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]

SIXTEENTH 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]

SEVENTEENTH 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]

EIGHTEENTH 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]

NINETEENTH 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!”