OH MOTHER, OH MOTHER, COME QUICKLY AND SEEOH MOTHER, OH MOTHER, COME QUICKLY AND SEEView larger image
Oh, Mother, Oh, Mother,Come quickly and see,The house and the farmyardHave gone on a spree.The pig’s in the pantry,The chickens are out,The parrot is perchedOn the tea kettle spout.And mercy, Oh, mercy,Oh, what shall I do?A rat has run offWith my very best shoe.
Two funny friends that you all knowAre Cella Ree and Tommy To.About as queer as friends can be,Are Tommy To and Cella Ree.For hours they sit there grim and stableSide by side upon the table.Tom is red and Cella pale,His blushes are of no avail;She sits, in spite of his endeavor,As firm and undisturbed as ever,A funny pair, you must agree,This Tommy To and Cella Ree.
Illustration 69View larger image
Illustration 70View larger image
If I were richerI’d buy a pitcherWith scenery on it.’Jolica ware—Storks here and there,And a funny affairWith ladies on it.In half a minuteI’d mix up in itA wonderful drink—Peppermint, ice,Lemons and spice—Taste pretty nice,What do you think?
O the Army of the Queen,The Army of the Queen,Some are dressed in turkey-redAnd some are dressed in green;A colonel and a captain,A corporal in between,Their guns are filled with powderAnd their swords are bright and keen;So toot your little trumpetFor the Army of the Queen.
TOOT YOUR LITTLE TRUMPET FOR THE ARMY OF THE QUEENTOOT YOUR LITTLE TRUMPET FOR THE ARMY OF THE QUEENView larger image
Romulus, Romulus,Father of Rome,Ran off with a wolfAnd he wouldn’t come home.When he grew upHe founded a cityWith an eagle, a bear,And a tortoise-shell kitty.
Illustration 72aView larger image
My dad was a soldier and fought in the wars,My grandfather fought on the sea,And the tales of their daring and valor of coursePut the sand and the ginger in me.I’m not scared of tigers or any wild beast,I could fight with a lion all right,I wouldn’t be ’fraid of a bear in the least—Excepting, perhaps, in the night.But sister, she’s skeery as skeery can be,She’s even afraid of the bark of a tree.
Percy when a little boyWas quiet as a mouse,He never set the barn afireNor battered down the house.He used to sit for hours and hoursJust gazing at the moon,And feeding little fishesSarsaparilla from a spoon.
Illustration 72bView larger image
Illustration 73View larger image
Moon, O Moon in the empty sky,Why do you swing so low?Pretty moon with the silver ringAnd the long bright beams where the fairies cling,Where do you always go?I go to the land of the Siamese,Ceylon and the Great Plateau,Over the seas where Sinbad sailed,Where Moses crossed and Pharaoh failed,—There’s where I always go.
RAG-MAN, RAG-MAN, TAGGY, TAGGY, RAG-MANRAG-MAN, RAG-MAN, TAGGY, TAGGY, RAG-MANView larger image
“Rag-man, rag-man,Taggy, taggy, rag-man,Tell us what you’ve got there in your sack.”“Oh—it’s full of rimes and riddles,Jingles, jokes, and hi-de-diddles—This bundle that I carry on my back.”“O tell us, funny rag-man,Grinny, skinny rag-man,Where did you pick up your funny rimes?”“Some were dancing with corn-flowers,Some were hiding in church-towers,And sprinkled helter-skelter by the chimes.”“Rag-man, rag-man,Nice old taggy rag-man,Sing us just one jingle, tingle song.”“Why, my dears, I’ve got a plenty,Sing you one? I’ll sing you twenty—I’ve been hoping you would ask me all along.”
Whenever I go out to walk,All the geese begin to gawk;And when I start to wander back,All the ducks begin to quack.
Illustration 75View larger image
Illustration 7a6View larger image
Mister McCuneCan whistle a tune,Old Uncle StrongCan sing us a song,Benjamin BiddleCan play on the fiddle,Captain O’TriggCan dance us a jig,And I, if I’m able,Will tell you a fable.
Heigho, Billy Bumpkins,How d’ you grow your pumpkins?“At six o’clock I sows ’em,At ten o’clock I hoes ’em,An’ jes before I goes to bedI puts ’em in the pumpkin shed.”Tell us, Billy Bumpkins,How d’ you sell your pumpkins?“I lends ’em to the ladies,I gives ’em to the babies,An’ trades a hundred for a kissTo any pretty little miss.”
Illustration 76bView larger image
Blue flames and red flamesIn a world all dark;Blue flames and red flames,And a tiny sparkHurrying to heaven, lest it should be late;Lest the cautious seraphim close the shining gate,And leave the little wanderer forevermore to flyLike an orphan angel through the endless sky.
Poor little Timothy GradyScrewed up his face at a lady,And, jiminy jack!It wouldn’t come back.The louder he holleredThe tighter it grew,His eyes are all redAnd his lips are all blue.Oh, mercy me, what in the world will he do?Poor little Timothy Grady!
Captain Tickle had a nickelIn a paper sack,He threw it in the riverAnd he couldn’t get it back.Captain Tickle spent his nickelFor a rubber ball,And when he cut it openThere was nothing there at all.
Illustration 77View larger image
Illustration 78View larger image
O Grandmother Grundy,Now what would you sayIf the katydids carriedYour glasses away—Carried them offTo the top of the skyAnd used them to watchThe eclipses go by?
Needles and pins, hooks and eyes!I saw a doughnut in the skies.Flipperjinks the circus clownClimbed a tree and got it down.
NEEDLES AND PINS, HOOKS AND EYES!NEEDLES AND PINS, HOOKS AND EYES!View larger image
Tassle is a captain,Tinsel is a mayor,Tony is a baker-boyWith ’lasses in his hair,Tipsy is a sailor,With anchors on his chest,And Tiny is the baby boyWho bosses all the rest.
Harry Hooker had a bookAnd couldn’t find a teacher.But still he managed very well,He climbed a box and rang a bellAnd turned into a preacher.
Illustration 80aView larger image
Illustration 80bView larger image
Jelly Jake and Butter BillOne dark night when all was stillPattered down the long, dark stair,And no one saw the guilty pair;Pushed aside the pantry-doorAnd there found everything galore,—Honey, raisins, orange-peel,Cold chicken aplenty for a meal,Gingerbread enough to fillTwo such boys as Jake and Bill.Well, they ate and ate and ate,Gobbled at an awful rateTill I’m sure they soon weighed moreThan double what they did before.And then, it’s awful, still it’s true,The floor gave way and they went thru.Filled so full they couldn’t fight.Slowly they sank out of sight.Father, Mother, Cousin Ann,Cook and nurse and furnace manFished in forty-dozen waysAfter them, for twenty days;But not a soul has chanced to getA glimpse or glimmer of them yet.And I’m afraid we never will—Poor Jelly Jake and Butter Bill.
Illustration 81aView larger image
Cut up a caper,You’ve got a paperAnd I’ve got a widget of string.You be the armyAnd let nothing harm meFor I am the captain and king.
Illustration 81bView larger image
WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A TREATWE’RE GOING TO HAVE A TREATView larger image
Here come the sweet potatoesAnd here’s the Sunday meat,I guess we must be ready nowTo eat, eat, eat.I’m going to have the nicey plateAnd Daddy’s leather seat,And wear my patent-leather shoesTo eat, eat, eat.My Daddy’s talking all aboutThe war, and some old fleet,I wonder if he never, never,Never wants to eat.We’re going to have some apple-cake,We’re going to have a treat.O hurry, hurry, Daddy,Let us eat, eat, eat.
Illustration 83View larger image
Hetty Hutton,Here’s a button,Sew it on your dress.Willie Waller,Here’s a dollar,Maybe more or less.Mister Shuster,Here’s a rooster,Put him in a pen.Mister Saxon,Get an ax an’Let him out again.
Illustration 84View larger image
A big, fat potato lay down on a clodIn the shade of some burdock and tall goldenrod,And he dreamed he were king of the whole garden plot,With a palace and throne, and a crown with a lotOf jewels and diamonds and gold till it shoneLike the front of a show when the lights are turned on.He had to be minded by all of the plants;When he whistled the radishes knew they must dance;When he tooted his horn the cucumbers must singTo a vegetable crowd gathered round in a ring.He made all the cabbages stand in a rowWhile a sunflower instructed them just how to grow;The bright yellow pumpkins he painted light blue;Took the clothes off the scare-crow and made him buy new.He strutted and sputtered and thought it was grandTo be king and commander o’er all the wide land.But at last he woke up with an awful surpriseAnd found a blind mole kicking sand in his eyes.
Illustration 85aView larger image
A bundle of hayFrom Baffin’s Bay,A johnny-cake from Rome,A man and a muleFrom Ultima ThuleTo carry the cargo home.
Illustration 85bView larger image
Illustration 86View larger image
Peter, popper, dopper, Dan,Catch a moonbeam if you can;Climb a cedar ten feet highAnd pick the planets from the sky.You’re a wonder, little man—Peter, popper, dopper, Dan.
Old Father Annum on New Year’s DayPicked up his bag of months and years,Thrust in his hand in a careless way,And pulled a wee fellow out by the ears.“There you are,” said he to the waiting crowd,“He’s as good as any I have in my pack.I never can tell, but I hope to be proudOf the little rascal when I come back.”
OLD FATHER ANNUMOLD FATHER ANNUMView larger image
O what will you take for a tippany flower,And what will you take for a pansy?I’ll take a smile for the tippany flower,And a kiss for the pretty pansy.
Illustration 88View larger image
Here comes a cabbage with a bonnet on its head,A pretty purple bonnet with a bow of blue and red;And here comes a bottle with a collar ’round its neck,A handsome linen collar, too, without a spot or speck;Next comes a meat-saw, his job is biting beef,And according to the cleaver he has gold in all his teeth;And last of all there comes along, amid the ringing cheers,A princely Indian corn-stalk with rings in both his ears.
Illustration 89aView larger image
There are plenty feathers on a henAnd prickers on a rose,There is plenty roaring in a denOf lions, goodness knows;There are plenty fishes in the lakeAnd islands in the sea;There are plenty raisins in this cakeFor even you and me.
A pipe and a spoon and a tenpenny nailStole a tin dishpan and went for a sail.But the cook he grew curious,Fussy, and furious;Gathered his trappings, and went on their trail.He found them that night in a pitiful plight,And sent them all home on the ten o’clock mail.
Illustration 89bView larger image
HI! HI! WHO WILL BUY A WEE LITTLE CLOUDHI! HI! WHO WILL BUY A WEE LITTLE CLOUDView larger image
Hi! Hi! Who will buyA wee little cloud for the pretty blue sky?Some are purple, some are red,And all are soft as a feather bed.Hi! Little children, won’t any one buyOne little cloud for the pretty blue sky?
A race, a race to Moscow,Before the close of day!A race, a race to Moscow,A long, long way!First comes a butterfly a-riding on a frog,Next comes a water rat a-floating on a log;A caterpillar on the fence, a hopper in the hay—Who’ll get to Moscow before the close of day?
Illustration 91View larger image
A prince came down from PeppervilleIn satin and in lace,He wore a bonnet on his headAnd whiskers on his face.And when he came to BattleburgThis is what befell:He gave the king and cabinetA half a peanut shell.
Illustration 92View larger image
Hitch up your cattleAnd drive to SeattleTo see all the boats come in,—From Kibi and KobiAnd Panama DobiAnd some from the Islands of Myn.They’re bringing us ricesAnd cocoa and spicesAnd pineapples done up in tin,And maybe Aunt DinahWill come back from ChinaIf ever the boats get in.
Pretty poppies,Pretty trees,Pretty little lettuce-leaves,Pretty pebbles,Red and brown,Pretty floating thistle-down.Pretty baby,Curly head,Standing in a pansy-bed,Pretty cloudsAll white and curled—O the great, big pretty world!
PRETTY THINGSPRETTY THINGSView larger image
Did you ever go to the watering troughAnd watch the sparrows drink?Did you ever go to Potter’s pondAnd see the divers sink?Did you ever steal to the barn at nightAnd watch the hoot-owls think?
Illustration 94View larger image
Hootem, tootem, clear the track!I caught a coon on Kamiak!Colonel Clapp and Uncle RomeHave hired a hack to bring it home.
On a hummock by the lakeStands the home of Doctor Drake,Poor old doctor, how he works!Week by week he never shirks—Pulling teeth for guinea-fowl,Soothing puppies when they howl,Whittling out a hickory pegFor a gander’s broken leg,Giving medicine awayAbout a hundred times a day,Linseed oil and elder-barkTo a croaking meadowlark,Nasty, bitter yarrow-teaTo a tipsy bumble-bee,A poultice made of plantain leavesTo cure a rabbit with the heaves.Fever, colic, cramp, or stitch,Kitten-croup or beaver’s-itch,Any kind of pain or acheIs cured by dear, old Doctor Drake.
Illustration 95aView larger image
Come to the land where the babies grow,Like flowers in the green, green grass.Tiny babes that swing and crowWhenever the warm winds pass,And laugh at their own bright eyes aglowIn a fairy looking-glass.Come to the sea where the babies sailIn ships of shining pearl,Borne to the west by a golden galeOf sun-beams all awhirl;And perhaps a baby brother will sailTo you, my little girl.
Twenty thieves from Albion,All with butcher knives,Coming on the dead run,Fighting for their lives.See the man from our town.In a fancy vest,Knocking all the big ones down,Chasing all the rest.
Illustration 95bView larger image
Illustration 96aView larger image
As I came out of Grundy GreetFour cats were marching down the streetOne was long and gray and thinWith lots of whiskers on his chin,And one was round and sleek and fat(He must have been a butcher’s cat).One was dapper, slight, and frail,With bells and tassels on his tail,And one had starey yellow eyesAlmost as big as pumpkin pies.These four came marching down the streetAs I came out of Grundy Greet.
Illustration 96bView larger image