ACAPITAL ship for an ocean trip,Was the "Walloping Window-blind";No gale that blew dismayed her crewOr troubled the captain's mind.The man at the wheel was taught to feelContempt for the wildest blow,And it often appeared, when the weather had cleared,That he'd been in his bunk below."The boatswain's mate was very sedate,Yet fond of amusement, too;And he played hop-scotch with the starboard watch,While the captain tickled the crew.And the gunner we had was apparently mad,For he sat on the after rail,And fired salutes with the captain's boots,In the teeth of the booming gale."The captain sat in a commodore's hatAnd dined in a royal wayOn toasted pigs and pickles and figsAnd gummery bread each day.But the cook was Dutch and behaved as such;For the diet he gave the crewWas a number of tons of hot-cross bunsPrepared with sugar and glue."All nautical pride we laid aside,And we cast the vessel ashoreOn the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles,And the Rumbletumbunders roar.And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledgeAnd shot at the whistling bee;And the cinnamon-bats wore water-proof hatsAs they danced in the sounding sea."On rubgub bark, from dawn to dark,We fed, till we all had grownUncommonly shrunk,—when a Chinese junkCame by from the torriby zone.She was stubby and square, but we didn't much care,And we cheerily put to sea;And we left the crew of the junk to chewThe bark of the rubgub tree."
[Charles E. Carryl
CANARY-BIRDS feed on sugar and seed,Parrots have crackers to crunch:And, as for the poodles, they tell me the noodlesHave chickens and cream for their lunch.But there's never a questionAbout MY digestion—Anything does for me!"Cats, you're aware, can repose in a chair,Chickens can roost upon rails;Puppies are able to sleep in a stable,And oysters can slumber in pails.But no one supposesA poor Camel dozes—Any place does for me!"Lambs are enclosed where it's never exposed,Coops are constructed for hens:Kittens are treated to houses well heated,And pigs are protected by pens.But a Camel comes handyWherever it's sandy—Anywhere does for me!"People would laugh if you rode a giraffe,Or mounted the back of an ox;It's nobody's habit to ride on a rabbit,Or try to bestraddle a fox.But as for a Camel, he'sRidden by families—Any load does for me!"A snake is as round as a hole in the ground,And weasels are wavy and sleek;And no alligator could ever be straighterThan lizards that live in a creek,But a Camel's all lumpyAnd bumpy and humpy—Any shape does for me!"
[Charles E. Carryl
GeeseEV-ER-Y child who has the useOf his sen-ses knows a goose.Sees them un-der-neath the treeGath-er round the goose-girl's knee,While she reads them by the hourFrom the works of Scho-pen-hau-er.How pa-tient-ly the geese at-tend!But do they re-al-ly com-pre-hendWhat Scho-pen-hau-er's driving at?Oh, not at all; but what of that?Nei-ther do I; nei-ther does she;And, for that matter, nor does he.A SealSee, children, the Furbearing Seal;Ob-serve his mis-di-rect-ed zeal;He dines with most ab-ste-mi-ous careOn Fish, Ice Water and Fresh AirA-void-ing cond-i-ments or spiceFor fear his fur should not be niceAnd fine and soft and smooth and meetFor Broad-way or for Re-gent Street,And yet some-how I often feel(Though for the kind Fur-bear-ing SealI harbor a Re-spect Pro-found)He runs Fur-bear-ance in the ground.The AntMy child, ob-serve the use-ful Ant,How hard she works each day.She works as hard as ad-a-mant(That's very hard, they say).She has no time to gall-i-vant;She has no time to play.Let Fido chase his tail all day;Let Kitty play at tag;She has no time to throw away,She has no tail to wag;She scurries round from morn till night;She nev-er nev-er sleeps;She seiz-es ev-ery-thing in sight,She drags it home with all her might,And all she takes she keeps.The YakThis is the Yak, so negligee;His coif-fure's like a stack of hay;He lives so far from Any-where,I fear the Yak neglects his hair.And thinks, since there is none to see,What mat-ter how un-kempt he be:How would he feel if he but knewThat in this Picture-book I drewHis Phys-i-og-no-my un-shorn,For children to de-ride and scorn?
[Oliver Herford
[From "A Child's Primer of Natural History." Copyright, 1899, by Oliver Herford, Chas. Scribner's Sons, Publishers]
[From "A Child's Primer of Natural History." Copyright, 1899, by Oliver Herford, Chas. Scribner's Sons, Publishers]
EIS for Edison, making believeHe's invented a clever contrivance for Eve,Who complained that she never could laugh in her sleeve.O is for Oliver, casting aspersionOn Omar, that awfully dissolute Persian,Though secretly longing to join the diversion.R's Rubenstein, playing that old thing in FTo Rollo and Rembrandt, who wish they were deaf.S is for Swinburne, who, seeking the true,The good, and the beautiful, visits the Zoo,Where he chances on Sappho and Mr. Sardou,And Socrates, all with the same end in view.W's Wagner, who sang and played lots,For Washington, Wesley and good Dr. Watts;His prurient plots pained Wesley and Watts,But Washington said he "enjoyed them in spots."
[Oliver Herford
1THE Window has Four little Panes:But One have I;The Window-Panes are in its sash,—I wonder why!2My Feet they haul me 'round the House:They hoist me up the Stairs;I only have to steer them andThey ride me everywheres.3Remarkable truly, is Art!See—Elliptical wheels on a Cart!It looks very fairIn the Picture up there;But imagine the Ride when you start!4I'd rather have fingers than Toes;I'd rather have Ears than a Nose:And as for my hair,I'm glad it's all there,I'll be awfully sad when it goes!5I wish that my Room had a floor;I don't so much care for a Door,But this walking aroundWithout touching the groundIs getting to be quite a bore!
[Gelett Burgess
IAM gai. I am poet. I dvellRupert Street, at the fifth. I am svell.And I sing tralalaAnd I love my mamma,And the English, I speaks him quite well!2"Cassez-vous, cassez-vous, cassez-vous,O mer, sur vos froids gris cilloux!"Ainsi traduisit LaureAu profit d'Isadore(Bon jeune homme, et son futur epoux.)3Il existe une espinstere a ToursUn peu vite, et qui portait toujoursUn ulster peau-de-phoque,Un chapeau bilicoque,Et des nicrebocquers en velours.4Un marin naufrage (de Doncastre)Pour priere, au milieu du desastreRepetait a genouxCes mots simples et doux:—"Scintellez, scintellez, petit astre!"
[George du Maurier
1THERE was a small boy of Quebec,Who was buried in snow to his neck:When they said, "Are you friz?"He replied, "Yes I is—But we don't call this cold in Quebec!"
[Rudyard Kipling
2There was an old man of St. Bees,Who was stung in the arm by a wasp:When they asked, "Does it hurt?"He replied, "No it doesn't,But I thought all the while 'twas a Hornet!"
[W.S. Gilbert
1THERE was an old man of TarentumWho gnashed his false teeth till he bent 'em;And when asked for the costOf what he had lost,Said, "I really can't tell, for I rent 'em!"2A lady there was of Antigua,Who said to her spouse, "What a pig you are!"He answered, "My queenIs it manners you mean,Or do you refer to my figure?"3There were three young women of Birmingham,And I know a sad story concerning 'em;They stuck needles and pinsIn the right rev'rend shinsOf the Bishop engaged in confirming 'em!