The Project Gutenberg eBook ofA Phenomenal FaunaThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: A Phenomenal FaunaAuthor: Carolyn WellsIllustrator: Oliver HerfordRelease date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24673]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Geetu Melwani and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PHENOMENAL FAUNA ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: A Phenomenal FaunaAuthor: Carolyn WellsIllustrator: Oliver HerfordRelease date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24673]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Geetu Melwani and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)
Title: A Phenomenal Fauna
Author: Carolyn WellsIllustrator: Oliver Herford
Author: Carolyn Wells
Illustrator: Oliver Herford
Release date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24673]Most recently updated: January 3, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Geetu Melwani and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PHENOMENAL FAUNA ***
To My GodfatherWILLIAM F. CLARKE
THEREG'LARLARK
The Reg'lar Lark's a very gay old Bird;At sunrise often may his voice be heardAs jauntily he wends his homeward way,And trills a fresh and merry roundelay.And some old, wise philosopher has said:Rise with a lark, and with a lark to bed.
The Reg'lar Lark's a very gay old Bird;At sunrise often may his voice be heardAs jauntily he wends his homeward way,And trills a fresh and merry roundelay.And some old, wise philosopher has said:Rise with a lark, and with a lark to bed.
The Regular Lark
Although a learned EntomologistMay doubt if Humbugs really do exist,Yet each of us, I'm sure, can truly sayWe've seen a number of them in our day.But are they real?—well, a mind judicialPerhaps would call them false and artificial.
Although a learned EntomologistMay doubt if Humbugs really do exist,Yet each of us, I'm sure, can truly sayWe've seen a number of them in our day.But are they real?—well, a mind judicialPerhaps would call them false and artificial.
THEPOPPYCOCK
The Poppycock's a fowl of English breed,And therefore many think him fine indeed.Credulous people's ears he would regale,And so he crows aloud and spreads his tale.But he is stuffed with vain and worthless words;Fine feathers do not always make fine birds.
The Poppycock's a fowl of English breed,And therefore many think him fine indeed.Credulous people's ears he would regale,And so he crows aloud and spreads his tale.But he is stuffed with vain and worthless words;Fine feathers do not always make fine birds.
The Poppycock
The Haycock cannot crow; he has no brains,No,—not enough to go in when it rains.He is not gamy,—fighting's not his forte,A Haycock fight is just no sort of sport.Down in the meadow all day long he'll bide,(That is a little hay-hen by his side.)
The Haycock cannot crow; he has no brains,No,—not enough to go in when it rains.He is not gamy,—fighting's not his forte,A Haycock fight is just no sort of sport.Down in the meadow all day long he'll bide,(That is a little hay-hen by his side.)
THEPOWDERMONKEY
A Theory, by scientists defended,Declares that we from monkeys are descended.This being thus, we therefore clearly seeThe Powder-Monkey heads some pedigree.Ah, yes,—from him descend by evolution,The Dames and Daughters of the Revolution.
A Theory, by scientists defended,Declares that we from monkeys are descended.This being thus, we therefore clearly seeThe Powder-Monkey heads some pedigree.Ah, yes,—from him descend by evolution,The Dames and Daughters of the Revolution.
The Powder Monkey
The sportive Tree Calf here we see,He builds his nest up in a tree;To this strange dwelling-place he cleavesBecause he is so fond of leaves.'Twas his ancestral cow, I trow,Jumped o'er the moon, so long ago.But he is not so great a rover,Though at the last he runs to cover.
The sportive Tree Calf here we see,He builds his nest up in a tree;To this strange dwelling-place he cleavesBecause he is so fond of leaves.'Twas his ancestral cow, I trow,Jumped o'er the moon, so long ago.But he is not so great a rover,Though at the last he runs to cover.
THEMILITARYFROG
The Military Frog, as well you know,Is the famed one who would a-wooing go.And on the soldier's manly breast displayed,He wins the heart of every blushing maid.But, as a frog, I think he's incomplete,He has no good hind legs that we may eat.
The Military Frog, as well you know,Is the famed one who would a-wooing go.And on the soldier's manly breast displayed,He wins the heart of every blushing maid.But, as a frog, I think he's incomplete,He has no good hind legs that we may eat.
The Military Frog
This animal of which I speakIs a most curious sort of freak.Though Serpent would its form describe,Yet it is of the feathered tribe.And 'tis the snake, I do believe,That tempted poor old Mother Eve,For never woman did existWho could its subtle charm resist.
This animal of which I speakIs a most curious sort of freak.Though Serpent would its form describe,Yet it is of the feathered tribe.And 'tis the snake, I do believe,That tempted poor old Mother Eve,For never woman did existWho could its subtle charm resist.
THEBRICK BAT
Oft through the stillness of the summer nightWe see the Brick Bat take his rapid flight.And, with unerring aim, descending straight,He meets a cat on the back garden gate.The little Brick Bat could not fly alone,—Oh, no; there is a power behind the thrown.
Oft through the stillness of the summer nightWe see the Brick Bat take his rapid flight.And, with unerring aim, descending straight,He meets a cat on the back garden gate.The little Brick Bat could not fly alone,—Oh, no; there is a power behind the thrown.
The Brick Bat
The Cat O' Nine Tails is not very nice,—No good at all at catching rats and mice;She eats no fish, though living on the sea,And no one's friend or pet she seems to be.Yet oft she makes it lively for poor Jack,—Curls round his legs, and jumps upon his back.
The Cat O' Nine Tails is not very nice,—No good at all at catching rats and mice;She eats no fish, though living on the sea,And no one's friend or pet she seems to be.Yet oft she makes it lively for poor Jack,—Curls round his legs, and jumps upon his back.
THEROUNDROBIN
Here's the Round Robin, round as any ball;You scarce can see his head or tail at all.He's not a carrier-pigeon, though he bringsImportant messages beneath his wings.And 'tis this freak of ornithologyThey mean who say, "A little bird told me."
Here's the Round Robin, round as any ball;You scarce can see his head or tail at all.He's not a carrier-pigeon, though he bringsImportant messages beneath his wings.And 'tis this freak of ornithologyThey mean who say, "A little bird told me."
The Round Robin
The Iron Spider is an insect strange,He loves to stand upon a red-hot range.Unlike his race, he's not an octoped,He has but three legs and he has no head.Had this but been the kind Miss Muffet saw'Twould not have filled the maiden with such awe.
The Iron Spider is an insect strange,He loves to stand upon a red-hot range.Unlike his race, he's not an octoped,He has but three legs and he has no head.Had this but been the kind Miss Muffet saw'Twould not have filled the maiden with such awe.
THEBOOKWORM
The Bookworm's an uninteresting grub,Whether he's all alone or in a club.Of stupid books which seem to us a bore,The Bookworm will devour the very core.Did Solomon or somebody affirmThe early reed-bird catches the bookworm?
The Bookworm's an uninteresting grub,Whether he's all alone or in a club.Of stupid books which seem to us a bore,The Bookworm will devour the very core.Did Solomon or somebody affirmThe early reed-bird catches the bookworm?
The Bookworm
The Black Sheep is a beast all men should shun—He has no fleece yet fleeces every one;Though without horns, oft with a horn he's seen;Though not a lamb, he gambles on the green.Perhaps he's not a sheep, as some suggest,But a grim wolf who's in sheep's clothing dressed.
The Black Sheep is a beast all men should shun—He has no fleece yet fleeces every one;Though without horns, oft with a horn he's seen;Though not a lamb, he gambles on the green.Perhaps he's not a sheep, as some suggest,But a grim wolf who's in sheep's clothing dressed.
TIME FLIES
Time Flies are well-known insects; sages claimThat Tempus Fugit is their rightful name.When we're on idleness or pleasure bent,They sting our conscience and our fun prevent.We hear them winter mornings ere we rise,And oft in fly-time we observe Time Flies.
Time Flies are well-known insects; sages claimThat Tempus Fugit is their rightful name.When we're on idleness or pleasure bent,They sting our conscience and our fun prevent.We hear them winter mornings ere we rise,And oft in fly-time we observe Time Flies.
Time Flies
In country villages is foundThe Apple Bee with buzzing sound.And when our ears it does regaleWe find a sting is in its tale.As to its food,—the Apple BeeIs fond of doughnuts, cheese and tea.
In country villages is foundThe Apple Bee with buzzing sound.And when our ears it does regaleWe find a sting is in its tale.As to its food,—the Apple BeeIs fond of doughnuts, cheese and tea.
THEWELSHRABBIT
See the Welsh Rabbit—he is bred on cheese;(Or cheese on bread, whichever way you please.)Although he's tough, he looks so mild, who'd thinkThat a strong man from this small beast would shrink?But close behind him follows the nightmare,Beware of them, they are a frightful pair.
See the Welsh Rabbit—he is bred on cheese;(Or cheese on bread, whichever way you please.)Although he's tough, he looks so mild, who'd thinkThat a strong man from this small beast would shrink?But close behind him follows the nightmare,Beware of them, they are a frightful pair.
The Welsh Rabbit
The Cricket Bat is very often seenFlying perchance around the village green;But unlike many other bats, its flightIs always made by day and not by night.There may be one exception though,—and thatIs when it's aimed at some stray neighboring Cat.
The Cricket Bat is very often seenFlying perchance around the village green;But unlike many other bats, its flightIs always made by day and not by night.There may be one exception though,—and thatIs when it's aimed at some stray neighboring Cat.
THECOMMONSWALLOW
The Common Swallow is so swift of flight,We scarcely see him ere he's out of sight.One does not make a summer, it is true,But many of them cause a fall or two.The Swallow's strong when he is in his prime,And yet a man can down him every time.
The Common Swallow is so swift of flight,We scarcely see him ere he's out of sight.One does not make a summer, it is true,But many of them cause a fall or two.The Swallow's strong when he is in his prime,And yet a man can down him every time.
The Common Swallow
The Tomahawk's a fearsome bird, we deem;Though feathered tribes hold him in great esteem;A bird of prey, he whizzes through the air,And clutches his pale victim by the hair.Gory and grewsome,—he is the mainstayOf the historic novel of to-day.
The Tomahawk's a fearsome bird, we deem;Though feathered tribes hold him in great esteem;A bird of prey, he whizzes through the air,And clutches his pale victim by the hair.Gory and grewsome,—he is the mainstayOf the historic novel of to-day.
THEJAIL-BIRD
This is a Jail-bird. Isn't it a shameTo keep him in a cage and try to tameHis wild desires for freedom? See him droopBehind his bars. He wants to fly the coop.But to beguile his tedious, lonely hoursKind ladies bring him nosegays of bright flowers.
This is a Jail-bird. Isn't it a shameTo keep him in a cage and try to tameHis wild desires for freedom? See him droopBehind his bars. He wants to fly the coop.But to beguile his tedious, lonely hoursKind ladies bring him nosegays of bright flowers.
The Jail-bird
This noble beast's impressive form is seen'Mong the possessions of a king or queen.Hard-favored, yet so valuable is he,He's ever kept beneath a lock and key.And, since his temper can't find vent in speech,He stamps and punches everything in reach.
This noble beast's impressive form is seen'Mong the possessions of a king or queen.Hard-favored, yet so valuable is he,He's ever kept beneath a lock and key.And, since his temper can't find vent in speech,He stamps and punches everything in reach.
THEFIRE DOGS
Here are two Fire Dogs—they are queer, indeed;They seem to come of a three-legged breed.They have no tails, their bark is on their back;They hunt in couples, never in a pack.The day's work over, 'tis a pleasant sightTo find them waiting by the fire at night.
Here are two Fire Dogs—they are queer, indeed;They seem to come of a three-legged breed.They have no tails, their bark is on their back;They hunt in couples, never in a pack.The day's work over, 'tis a pleasant sightTo find them waiting by the fire at night.
The Fire Dogs
This funny little Mackerel KitIs not like other cats a bit;She cannot mew or scratch or purr,She has no whiskers and no fur.Yet, like all cats, her dearest wishIs just to be filled up with fish;But (and this isn't so feline)She always takes them steeped in brine.
This funny little Mackerel KitIs not like other cats a bit;She cannot mew or scratch or purr,She has no whiskers and no fur.Yet, like all cats, her dearest wishIs just to be filled up with fish;But (and this isn't so feline)She always takes them steeped in brine.
THEGOLF LYNX
This is the merry Golf Lynx, as you see;An amiable beast, and fond of tee.Indigenous to all the country round,His snaky length lies prone along the ground.It is the fashion o'er this beast to rave,But have a care, lest you become his slave.
This is the merry Golf Lynx, as you see;An amiable beast, and fond of tee.Indigenous to all the country round,His snaky length lies prone along the ground.It is the fashion o'er this beast to rave,But have a care, lest you become his slave.
Golf Lynx
The Traveling Crane's a bird, of course,Yet he possesses wondrous force.A bird of burden he must be,He lifts and pulls so mightily.And sometimes he will grasp his prey,And with it rise and soar away.His plumage is not fine, but then,He's of the greatest use to men.
The Traveling Crane's a bird, of course,Yet he possesses wondrous force.A bird of burden he must be,He lifts and pulls so mightily.And sometimes he will grasp his prey,And with it rise and soar away.His plumage is not fine, but then,He's of the greatest use to men.
THEFLYINGBUTTRESS
The Flying Buttress, every day and night,Continues in his long, unwearied flight.He's not a song-bird, but he's said to beFamed for his beauty and his Symmetry.He frequents an old abbey or a manse;The ostrich eats him if he gets a chance.
The Flying Buttress, every day and night,Continues in his long, unwearied flight.He's not a song-bird, but he's said to beFamed for his beauty and his Symmetry.He frequents an old abbey or a manse;The ostrich eats him if he gets a chance.
The Flying Buttress
In ocean waters the Sea Puss is found,Cat-like, forever chasing round and round.She has no claws, but crouching sly and lowShe stealthily puts out her undertow.And when an old seadog comes in her wayI'll warrant you there is the deuce to pay!
In ocean waters the Sea Puss is found,Cat-like, forever chasing round and round.She has no claws, but crouching sly and lowShe stealthily puts out her undertow.And when an old seadog comes in her wayI'll warrant you there is the deuce to pay!
THEBATTERINGRAM
This is the Battering Ram, a fearful beast,I think he weighs a thousand tons at least.Stronger than any other kind of butter,He goes his way calmly, without a flutter.Big as an elephant, bigger than a horse,He seems the best example of brute force.
This is the Battering Ram, a fearful beast,I think he weighs a thousand tons at least.Stronger than any other kind of butter,He goes his way calmly, without a flutter.Big as an elephant, bigger than a horse,He seems the best example of brute force.
The Battering Ram
Here's the Spring Chicken. I have heardThey manufacture this queer birdFrom bits of leather and of stringsAll joined and worked by tiny springs.Whenever this fine fowl is broiled,Each of his springs should be well oiled,Or he may spring across the roomAnd plunge his carver into gloom.
Here's the Spring Chicken. I have heardThey manufacture this queer birdFrom bits of leather and of stringsAll joined and worked by tiny springs.Whenever this fine fowl is broiled,Each of his springs should be well oiled,Or he may spring across the roomAnd plunge his carver into gloom.
THESHUTTLECOCK
The Shuttlecock's a handsome fowl to see,His feathers grow straight upward like a tree.He cannot crow, but oftentimes his flightWill reach up to a most astounding height.He is a gamecock, and, in fighting trim,There are not many birds that equal him.
The Shuttlecock's a handsome fowl to see,His feathers grow straight upward like a tree.He cannot crow, but oftentimes his flightWill reach up to a most astounding height.He is a gamecock, and, in fighting trim,There are not many birds that equal him.
The Shuttlecock
The Saw-Buck is a fearsome beast.The tramp objects to it, at least.When to the housewife he appliesFor coffee or for apple-pies,Right speedily he'll turn and leave herWhen he is seized with Saw-Buck Fever.
The Saw-Buck is a fearsome beast.The tramp objects to it, at least.When to the housewife he appliesFor coffee or for apple-pies,Right speedily he'll turn and leave herWhen he is seized with Saw-Buck Fever.
THEPIGEONTOAD
The Pigeon Toad's a funny little beast,He's found in every land from West to East.The children bring him in, to our amaze,And though we try to turn him out, he stays.He's never seen with soldiers, nor with fops,But with the schoolboys how he jumps and hops.
The Pigeon Toad's a funny little beast,He's found in every land from West to East.The children bring him in, to our amaze,And though we try to turn him out, he stays.He's never seen with soldiers, nor with fops,But with the schoolboys how he jumps and hops.
The Pigeon Toad
Perhaps because it's easily approached,The Golden Buck's a game that's often poached.'Tis sometimes mild, again 'tis strong and hearty,It may be found at many a gay stag-party.No branching antlers this strange beast adorn,But with the Golden Buck we take a horn.
Perhaps because it's easily approached,The Golden Buck's a game that's often poached.'Tis sometimes mild, again 'tis strong and hearty,It may be found at many a gay stag-party.No branching antlers this strange beast adorn,But with the Golden Buck we take a horn.
THEBUMBLEPUPPY
This is the Bumblepuppy. He's quite tame,Although he's said to be a sort of game.You scorn him, yet you must—ah, there's the rub—Accept him at your table or your club.He has his points, yet he's a pest, indeed;I would we could exterminate the breed.
This is the Bumblepuppy. He's quite tame,Although he's said to be a sort of game.You scorn him, yet you must—ah, there's the rub—Accept him at your table or your club.He has his points, yet he's a pest, indeed;I would we could exterminate the breed.
The Bumble Puppy
This useful animal we keepTo guard our treasure while we sleep.A pointer, not a setter, yetHe's of no use unless he's set.Gaze on his open, honest face,—There's no deception in his case.He is attached to us, 'tis plain,Though often by a slender chain.
This useful animal we keepTo guard our treasure while we sleep.A pointer, not a setter, yetHe's of no use unless he's set.Gaze on his open, honest face,—There's no deception in his case.He is attached to us, 'tis plain,Though often by a slender chain.
THEGOLD EAGLE
Here's the Gold Eagle. Very rare. They sayThis bird is worth ten dollars any day.He has no wings, apparently, yet IOr you, or anyone can make him fly.He's very powerful—held in great esteem;And money talks, so let the eagle scream.
Here's the Gold Eagle. Very rare. They sayThis bird is worth ten dollars any day.He has no wings, apparently, yet IOr you, or anyone can make him fly.He's very powerful—held in great esteem;And money talks, so let the eagle scream.
The Gold Eagle
Of all the fearsome beasts beneath the sunThe Bugbear is the most appalling one.At night he comes and hovers o'er our bed,Filling us with a nameless fear and dread.He is not half so terrible by day—Sometimes he shrinks and dwindles quite away.
Of all the fearsome beasts beneath the sunThe Bugbear is the most appalling one.At night he comes and hovers o'er our bed,Filling us with a nameless fear and dread.He is not half so terrible by day—Sometimes he shrinks and dwindles quite away.
THEIRISH BULL
Among the stock jokes it is oft averredThe Irish Bull is best of all the heard.He has no points, he has no head or tail,But many a jovial party he'll regale.And all his hearers will with laughter choke,Except his brother John, who sees no joke.
Among the stock jokes it is oft averredThe Irish Bull is best of all the heard.He has no points, he has no head or tail,But many a jovial party he'll regale.And all his hearers will with laughter choke,Except his brother John, who sees no joke.
The Irish Bull
'Tis very strange, and yet, upon my word,This silly fellow thinks he is a bird!He lives on hayseed,—everywhere he's found,But in the country he does most abound.And at the approach of winter, (more's the pity),A flock of jays will migrate to the city.
'Tis very strange, and yet, upon my word,This silly fellow thinks he is a bird!He lives on hayseed,—everywhere he's found,But in the country he does most abound.And at the approach of winter, (more's the pity),A flock of jays will migrate to the city.
FOREBEARS
Misled by certain signs of form and shape,Some think we are descended from the ape.But recent science now the truth declaresThe human race descended from Forebears.And since we're so inclined to war, I'll wagerOne of our Forebears was the Ursa Major.
Misled by certain signs of form and shape,Some think we are descended from the ape.But recent science now the truth declaresThe human race descended from Forebears.And since we're so inclined to war, I'll wagerOne of our Forebears was the Ursa Major.
Forebears
The High Horse often takes a foremost placeAmong the winners of the human race.They say one needs both brawn and brain to ride him,And even then 'tis very hard to guide him.His jockeys gaily prance and boldly scoff,But soon or late they're sure to tumble off.
The High Horse often takes a foremost placeAmong the winners of the human race.They say one needs both brawn and brain to ride him,And even then 'tis very hard to guide him.His jockeys gaily prance and boldly scoff,But soon or late they're sure to tumble off.