A Troublesome Flock: A Mother Goose Play for Children
Part 3
I think so, too. He’s a naughty boy! To tease some one is his great joy. He should be spanked and put to bed!
OLD WOMAN. Yes, that is what I’ve always said.
(BOY BLUE _runs in, tooting horn_.)
BOY BLUE.
Has any one seen my cows to-day? While I was asleep, they ran away. Which one of you let down the meadow bars?
BO PEEP. That bad Willie Winkie.
MOTHER HUBBARD.
Oh, my stars! What will he do next, the mischievous child? Was ever a young one so naughty and wild?
BOY BLUE.
Did you let those bars down, Willie Wink? Then you may hunt up the cows, I think.
WILLIE. I will, if you’ll lend me your horn, Boy Blue.
BOY BLUE.
I see myself lending my horn to you! ’Twould be filled with mud or be broken, or bent, Or else I would find in it many a dent.
WILLIE. I’d be careful, truly, Boy Blue!
BOY BLUE.
Oh, no! My horn goes with me wherever I go.
WILLIE. I think you’re real mean!
BO PEEP. That’s what we think of you.
MOTHER GOOSE.
You see, Willie Wink, so much mischief you do, That no one believes that you can be good.
WILLIE.
Your cows are all stuck in the swamp past the wood!
BOY BLUE.
Oh, no, Willie Winkie, you can’t fool me! I’ve just come through the swamp, you see. My cows are in some farmer’s field of corn. I’m as sure of that as I am of my horn.
MOTHER GOOSE.
Little folks should not in the daytime sleep. You’ve lost your cows, and Bo Peep her sheep.
BOY BLUE. Then maybe we’ll find them all together.
BO PEEP. And I’ll just tie up that old bell-wether!
(_All sing. Tune: No. 17._)
ALL.
Little Boy Blue, you should not sleep, And let your old cows run away with the sheep. While you’re asleep, Willie Winkie’s awake, And trouble he’s always sure to make.
(CURLY LOCKS _comes in_. BOY BLUE _looks at her admiringly_.)
MOTHER GOOSE. What have you been up to, Curly Locks?
CURLY LOCKS. Embroidering my new silk socks.
OLD WOMAN.
One wasn’t in mischief! Who’d think it, now? I’ll put a red mark down for that, I vow!
(JILL _turns toward_ OLD WOMAN, _and makes a face_.)
You stop making faces, young sass-box, at me! You’re homely enough, young gal, as you be.
(BOY BLUE _who has been “making up” to_ CURLY LOCKS, _sings. Tune: No. 18._)
BOY BLUE.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet feed the swine; But sit on a cushion and sew up a seam, And feast upon strawberries, sugar, and cream.
CURLY LOCKS.
H’m! When your old cows ran away, Where then would be the cream? And they’d tramp upon the strawberries; And as for sewing a seam, I’d rather embroider or hemstitch Than mend an ugly tear, Or sew on ugly patches When holes in your elbows you wear. Besides, you sleep by the haystack When you ought to be at work. I do not care for you, Boy Blue. I can’t abide a shirk!
BOY BLUE.
And I can’t abide a snob, so we Are even, as you must agree. Fine looks do not mean fine manners, I see, And you are not the girl, after all, for me.
MOTHER HUBBARD. “Handsome is as handsome does,” says I.
CURLY LOCKS (_tossing her curls_). “Sour grapes,” said the fox, when the vine was too high!
(BETTY BLUE _comes in, crying_.)
BETTY BLUE.
I wish you’d whip Tom, Ma, I do! He’s made me lose my nice new shoe. I’ve danced with a hoptoad and danced with a linnet, While he kept that pipe going every minute. I’ve danced with a snake and I’ve danced with a clam, I’ve danced with a cow and I’ve danced with a lamb! I’ve danced with old Rover, his long hanging ears Going flippety-flop, while he smiled through his tears! And I’d have been dancing yet, truly, Ma Goose, If something in that old pipe hadn’t come loose!
(_All sing. Tune: No. 19._)
ALL.
Little Betty Blue, oh, she lost her pretty shoe, Dancing with a hound dog, poor Betty Blue! Polkas, jigs and two-steps, waltzes, hornpipes, reels, Turkey trots and tango too. Tom made her shake her heels!
_Enter_ TOM, THE PIPER’S SON, _laughing. All sing. Tune: No. 20._
ALL.
Tom, Tom, the Piper’s Son, Stole a pig, and away he run. He taught that pig to dance, they say, Over the hills and far away.
TOM.
Yes, he’s a-dancing yet, I think, Unless he’s stopped to rest. You ought to see your sheep, Bo Peep! They danced their very best. The crumpled-horn cow and the old bell-wether Danced the Virginia Reel together.
Sweet Betty Blue danced with a clumsy clam! It was funny as it could be, When she danced with a beautiful striped snake Who curled most fantastically! And a toad and a polliwog danced in the shade With the butcher’s boy and the barber’s maid. Let’s have a dance, now! (_Puts pipe to lips._)
MOTHER GOOSE (_taking pipe away_).
Oh, no, you don’t! Sir Tom, I rather think we won’t. I’ll keep for a while this pretty toy. My joints are too stiff to prance, my boy.
TOM (_taking shoe from pocket, and handing it to_ BETTY BLUE).
Here’s your new shoe, sweet Betty Blue.
BETTY BLUE (_taking it and striking him with it_). I think you’re a horrid boy, I do!
(DINGTY DIDDLETY _comes in. All sing. Tune: No. 3._)
ALL.
Here’s Dingty Diddlety, my Mammy’s maid. Oh, she stole oranges, I am afraid! There’s some in her pocket, and some in her sleeve, For she stole oranges, I do believe!
DINGTY. I didn’t! I didn’t, Ma!
MOTHER HUBBARD.
Undo your sleeve, And turn out your pocket.
OLD WOMAN.
I railly believe Thet she did! They’re a terrible set, you see, All but this dear little maid by me.
(_Smiles at_ CURLY LOCKS.)
MOTHER GOOSE. It’s just a foolish little song.
OLD WOMAN. H’m! I’ve mistrusted her all along!
(_Two of the boys seize her arms and unbutton her sleeves, while a third seizes her bag and opens it. The gombobbles roll out._)
ALL. Oranges! Oranges! We told you so!
DINGTY. They’re not! They’re gombobbles!
SIMON. They be! I know.
DINGTY.
They sing that silly song at me Till they really believe it! I found a tree Out here in the wood, that was rather queer, So I picked some fruit for you, Mother dear. I met the old man dressed all in leather, And we had a nice little chat together. He says they’re gombobbles, and make nice pie.
CHILDREN. Do make some, Mother!
MOTHER GOOSE. Pick them up, and I’ll try.
(CHILDREN _scramble for them and pick them up. Some of them pretend to taste, and make wry faces._)
SIMON. They be n’t good a bit! I don’t like ’em!
SEVERAL OTHERS. Nor I!
DINGTY.
The old man said that they made good pie. They are not good raw. It’s well it’s so, Or we wouldn’t get any pie, I know.
MOTHER GOOSE (_to audience_).
I hope they’ve amused you, each lassie and lad. Though they’re not very good, still, they’re not very bad! Jest a troublesome flock, like your own, I dare say, Up to some mischief the most of the day; Yet you wouldn’t spare one, and neither would I. Now I must go make them that gombobble pie. Come again, folks, to see us. Come often, now do! Good-bye. Hey? Good wishes? The same, friends, to you!
(_All sing. Tune: No. 17._)
ALL.
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, Mother’s going to make us gombobble pie! When the pie is baked, we will all begin to sing. Maybe we a piece or two to you, good folks, will bring.
(_As curtain goes down, they shout._)
Hi, hi, hi! Gombobble pie! We’re a jolly flock of geese! Hi, hi, hi!
CURTAIN
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End of Project Gutenberg's A Troublesome Flock, by Elizabeth F. Guptill