Part 5

"Now I see at a glance Here's a capital chance For to play him a practical jokee. So I'll venture to say That he shall not to-day Leave the banks of Lake Okeefinokee."

So this bad mocking-bird, Without saying a word, He flew to a tree which was oaky. And loudly he sang, Till the whole forest rang, "Oh! Croakety croakety croaky!"

As he warbled this song, Master Frog came along, A-filling his pipe for to smokee, And he said, "'Tis some frog Has escaped from the bog Of Okeefinokee-finokee.

"I am filled with amaze To hear one of my race A-warbling on top of an oaky; But if frogs can climb trees, I may still find some ease On the banks of Lake Okeefinokee."

So he climbed up the tree; But alas! down fell he! And his lovely green neck it was brokee; And the sad truth to say, Never more did he stray From the banks of Lake Okeefinokee.

And the bad mocking-bird Said, "How very absurd And delightful a practical jokee!" But I'm happy to say He was drowned the next day In the waters of Okeefinokee.

GRANDPAPA'S VALENTINE.

I may not claim her lovely hand, My darling and my pride! I may not ask her to become My bright and beauteous bride; The measure of my love for her May not be said or sung; And all because I'm rather old, And she is rather young.

I may not clasp her slender waist, And thread the mazy dance; I may not drive her in the Park, With steeds that neigh and prance. I may not tempt her with my lands, Nor buy her with my gold; And all because she's rather young, And I am rather old.

She leaves me for a younger swain, A plump and beardless boy. She slights me for a sugar-plum, Neglects me for a toy. And worst of all, this state of things Can never altered be; For I am nearly sixty-eight, And she is only three.

ALIBAZAN.

All on the road to Alibazan, A May Day in the morning, 'Twas there I met a bonny young man, A May Day in the morning; A bonny young man all dressed in blue, Hat and feather and stocking and shoe, Ruff and doublet and mantle too, A May Day in the morning.

He made me a bow, and he made me three, A May Day in the morning; He said, in truth, I was fair to see, A May Day in the morning. "And say, will you be my sweetheart now? I'll marry you truly with ring and vow; I've ten fat sheep and a black-nosed cow, A May Day in the morning.

"What shall we buy in Alibazan, A May Day in the morning? A pair of shoes and a feathered fan, A May Day in the morning. A velvet gown all set with pearls, A silver hat for your golden curls, A pot of pinks for my pink of girls, A May Day in the morning."

All in the streets of Alibazan, A May Day in the morning, The merry maidens tripped and ran, A May Day in the morning. And this was fine, and that was free, But he turned from them all to look on me; And "Oh! but there's none so fair to see, A May Day in the morning."

All in the church of Alibazan, A May Day in the morning, 'Twas there I wed my bonny young man, A May Day in the morning. And oh! 'tis I am his sweetheart now! And oh! 'tis we are happy, I trow, With our ten fat sheep and our black-nosed cow, A May Day in the morning.

THE THREE FISHERS.

John, Frederick, and Henry, Had once a holiday; And they would go a-fishing, So merry and so gay. They went to fish for salmon, These little children three; As in this pretty picture You all may plainly see.

It was not in the ocean, Nor from the river shore, But in the monstrous water-butt Outside the kitchen door. And John he had a fish-hook, And Fred a crooked pin, And Henry took his sister's net, And thought it was no sin.

They climbed up on the ladder, Till they the top did win; And then they perched upon the edge, And then they did begin. But how their fishing prospered, Or if they did it well, Or if they caught the salmon, I cannot, cannot tell.

Because I was not there, you know, But I can only say That I too went a-fishing, That pleasant summer day. It was not for a salmon, Or shark with monstrous fin, But it was for three little boys, All dripping to the skin.

PEEPSY.

[_After the manner of Jane Taylor._]

Our Julia has a little bird, And Peepsy is his name; And now I'll sing a little song To celebrate the same.

He's yellow all from head to foot, And he is very sweet, And very little trouble, for He never wants to eat.

He never asks for water clear, He never chirps for seed, For cracker, or for cuttlefish, For sugar or chickweed.

"Oh! what a perfect pet!" you cry, But there's one little thing, One drawback to the bonny bird,-- Our Peepsy cannot sing.

He chirps no song at dawn or eve, He makes no merry din; But this one cannot wonder at, For Peepsy's made of tin.

MAY SONG.

On a certain First of May, So they say, Came two merry little maids Out to play. Brown-haired Jeanie, sweet and wise, Fair-haired Norah, with her eyes Blue as are the morning skies. Each in cap and kirtle gay, Pretty little maids were they; Light of heart and well content, Through the fields they singing went, On a merry First of May, So they say.

On this merry First of May, So they say, Came two sturdy little lads By that way. Miller's Robin from the mill, Shepherd's Johnnie from the hill; Bonny little lads, I trow, Sunny eyes and open brow, Ruddy cheeks and curly hair, Sturdy legs all brown and bare, Through the fields they marched along, Whistling each his cheery song, On a merry First of May, So they say.

On this merry First of May, So they say, Lads and lasses, there they met On their way. Said the lads, "We'll choose a queen! May Day comes but once, I ween. Search we all the country round, Sweeter maids could not be found." Laughed the lasses merrily, "Ay! but which one shall it be? John and Robin, tell us true, Which is fairer of the two, On this merry First of May? Quickly say!"

On this merry First of May, So they say, Shepherd Johnnie hushed his whistle Blithe and gay; "Brown eyes are more fair," said he, "For they shine so winsomely!" "Nay!" quoth Robin, "'tis confessed Blue eyes _always_ are the best! Fair-haired Norah wins the prize!" "That she does not!" Johnnie cries; "Norah's well enough, but Jean, Brown and sweet, shall be the queen On this merry First of May! Choose _my_ way!"

On this merry First of May, So they say, Soon to earnest turned their play. Well-a-day! Loud and angry words arose, Angry words soon turned to blows; John and Robin o'er the ground Chase each other round and round, Kicking, cuffing, here and there, Shouting through the sweet May air: "Jeanie!" "Norah!--is more fair!" While the little maids aside, Blue eyes, brown eyes, open wide On this stormy First of May, Well-a-day!

On this merry First of May, So they say, Jean and Norah stole away From the fray. "Silly lads!" they laughing cried, "Let them as they will decide; Shall we while they quarrel, pray, Lose our pretty holiday? Come away, and we may find Other lads, who know their mind. Or if not, why then, I ween, Each will be the other's queen, On this merry First of May. Come away!"

TWO LITTLE VALENTINES.

[_For two little girls._]

I.

Young Rosalind, she is my rose! I care not who the secret knows; So deep within my heart she grows, Her constant bloom no winter knows; Sweet Rosalind, she is my rose.

Alas! this rose hath yet a thorn, Whereon my heart is daily torn. The love I proffer her each morn, That love she flings me back in scorn. But shall I therefore idly mourn? She'd be no rose _without_ the thorn.

II.

When the ivory lily darkens, When the jealous rose turns pale, Then I say, "My Julia's coming! 'Tis a sign will never fail."

When the bobolink is silent, When the linnet stays her trill, Then I say, "My Julia's singing! At her voice the birds are still."

When I feel two velvet rose-leaves Touch my eyes on either lid, Then I say, "My Julia kissed me!" And she answers, "Yes, me did!"

A HOWL ABOUT AN OWL.

It was an owl lived in an oak, Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl! He often smiled, but he seldom spoke, And he wore a wig and a camlet cloak. Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl! Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

He fell in love with the chickadee, Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl! He askèd her, would she marry he, And they'd go and live in Crim Tartaree. Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl! Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

"'Tis true," says he, "you are far from big." Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl! "But you'll look twice as well when I've bought you a wig, And I'll teach you the Lancers and the Chorus Jig." Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl! Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

"I'll feed you with honey when the moon grows pale." Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl! "I'll hum you a hymn, and I'll sing you a scale, Till you quiver with delight to the tip of your tail!" Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl! Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

So he went for to marry of the chickadee, Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl! But the sun was so bright that he could not see, So he marrièd the hoppergrass instead of she. And wasn't that a sad disappointment for he! Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl! Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

OUR CELEBRATION.

Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang! Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang! Popguns all a-snapping, and banners all a-flapping,-- Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang!

Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack! Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack! Fish-horns all a-tooting, and schoolboys all a-hooting,-- Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack!

Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz! Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz! Pin-wheels all a-turning, and fingers all a-burning,-- Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz!

Off goes our little Ned, boo-hoo-hoo! Off goes our little Ned, boo-hoo-hoo! Big hole in his jacket, and another in his pocket, Half the hair singed off his head, Off goes our little Ned,-- Mamma'll put him straight to bed, boo-hoo-hoo!

THE SONG OF THE CORN-POPPER.

Pip! pop! flippety flop! Here am I, all ready to pop. Girls and boys, the fire burns clear; Gather about the chimney here. Big ones, little ones, all in a row. Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop! Into the bowl the kernels drop. Sharp and hard and yellow and small; Must say they don't look good at all. But wait till they burst into warm white snow! Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop! Don't fill me too full; shut down the top! Rake out the coals in an even bed, Topaz yellow and ruby red; Shade your eyes from the fiery glow. Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop! Shake me steadily; do not stop! Backward and forward, not up and down; Don't let me drop, or you'll burn it brown. Never too high and never too low. Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop! Now they are singing, and soon they'll hop. Hi! the kernels begin to swell; Ho! at last they are dancing well. Puffs and fluffs of feathery snow, Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop! All full, little ones? Time to stop! Pour out the snowy, feathery mass; Here is a treat for lad and lass. Open your mouths now, all in a row; Munch away! crunch away! here we go!

WHAT BOBBY SAID.

I don't think it's right! I don't think it's fair! I don't like Easter At all! so there!

It's only because I'm young, you see, They think they can play Their tricks upon me.

They brought me an egg, And a beauty, too! All golden yellow, With stripes of blue.

They said 'twas a true egg, A _truly_ true! And, of course, I supposed It was so all through;

But when it was opened, Just think what a shame! 'Twas just like the white ones, Just _'zactly_ the same!

Part white and part yellow, No bit of it blue, And it tasted the same As the other ones, too.

I don't think it's right, And I don't think it's fair, And I don't like Easter _At all!_ so there!

MASTER JACK'S VIEWS.

[_After a lesson in astronomy._]

The merry old World goes round, goes round, And round the old World does go; Day in, day out, from west to east, At a pace that is far from slow.

And he's never been known to change his pace, Or swerve an inch from his course, Though his journey so easily shortened might be, By cutting his orbit across.

If I were you, you silly old World, I know well what I 'd do: Break loose from that tiresome orbit-track, And go spinning the Universe through.

I'd startle the stars from their morning nap, With a "How do you do to-day?" And before any one could take off his night-cap, I'd be millions of miles away.

I'd warm my hands at the gate of the Sun, And cool them off at the Pole; Then off and away down the Milky Way, How merrily I would roll!

I'd steal from Saturn his golden rings, From Mars his mantle of red; And I'd borrow the sword of Orion the brave, To cut off the Serpent's head.

I'd saddle the Bear, and ride on his back, Nor dream of being afraid; And maybe I'd stop at the Archer's shop, To see how the rainbows are made.

I'd race with the comets, I'd flirt with the moon, I'd waltz with the Northern Lights, Till the whole Solar System should hold up its hands And exclaim, "What remarkable sights!"

But stay! to all these delightful things One slight objection I see; For if the World _should_ play these wonderful pranks. Pray, what would become of me?

And what would become of papa and mamma? And what would become of you? And how should we like to go spinning about, And careering the Universe through?

Well, the merry old World goes round, goes round, And round the old World does go; And a great deal better than you or I, The wise old World must know!

EMILY JANE.

Oh! Christmas time is coming again, And what shall I buy for Emily Jane? O Emily Jane, my love so true, Now what upon earth shall I buy for you? My Emily Jane, my doll so dear, I've loved you now for many a year, And still while there's anything left of you, My Emily Jane, I'll love you true!

My Emily Jane has lost her head, And has a potato tied on instead; A hole for an eye, and a lump for a nose, It really looks better than you would suppose. My Emily Jane has lost her arms, The half of one leg's the extent of her charms; But still, while there's anything left of you, My Emily Jane, I'll love you true!

And now, shall I bring you a fine new head, Or shall I bring you a leg instead? Or will you have arms, to hug me tight, When naughty 'Lizabeth calls you a fright? Or I'll buy you a dress of satin so fine, 'Mong all the dolls to shimmer and shine; For oh! while there's anything left of you, My Emily Jane, I'll love you true!

Mamma says, "Keep all your pennies, Sue, And I'll buy you a doll all whole and new;" But better I love my dear old doll, With her one half-leg and potato poll. "The potato may rot, and the leg may fall?" Well, then I shall treasure the sawdust, that's all! For while there is _anything_ left of you, My Emily Jane, I'll love you true!

SONG OF THE MOTHER WHOSE CHILDREN ARE FOND OF DRAWING.

Oh, could I find the forest Where the pencil-trees grow! Oh, might I see their stately stems All standing in a row! I'd hie me to their grateful shade; In deep, in deepest bliss; For then I need not hourly hear A chorus such as this:

_Chorus._ Oh, lend me a pencil, _please_, Mamma! Oh, draw me some houses and trees, Mamma! Oh, make me a floppy Great poppy to copy, And a horsey that prances and gees, Mamma!

The branches of the pencil-tree Are pointed every one; Ay! each one has a glancing point That glitters in the sun. The leaves are leaves of paper white, All fluttering in the breeze; Ah! could I pluck one rustling bough, I'd silence cries like these:

_Chorus._ Oh, lend me a pencil, do, Mamma! I've got mine all stuck in the glue, Mamma! Oh, make me a pretty Big barn and a city, And a cow and a steam-engine too, Mamma!

The fruit upon the pencil-tree Hangs ripening in the sun, In clusters bright of pocket-knives,-- Three blades to every one. Ah! might I pluck one shining fruit, And plant it by my door, The pleading cries, the longing sighs, Would trouble me no more.

_Chorus._ Oh, sharpen a pencil for me, Mamma! 'Cause Johnny and Baby have three, Mamma! And this isn't fine! And Hal sat down on mine! So do it bee-yu-ti-ful-_lee_, Mamma!

THE SEVEN LITTLE TIGERS AND THE AGED COOK.

Seven little tigers they sat them in a row, Their seven little dinners for to eat; And each of the troop had a little plate of soup, The effect of which was singularly neat.

They were feeling rather cross, for they hadn't any sauce To eat with their pudding or their pie; So they rumpled up their hair, in a spasm of despair, And vowed that the aged cook should die.

Then they called the aged cook, and a frying-pan they took, To fry him very nicely for their supper; He was ninety-six years old, on authority I'm told, And his name was Peter Sparrow-piper Tupper.

"Mr. Sparrow-piper Tup, we intend on you to sup!" Said the eldest little tiger very sweetly; But this naughty aged cook, just remarking, "Only look!" Chopped the little tiger's head off very neatly.

Then he said unto the rest, "It has always been confessed That a tiger's better eating than a man; So I'll fry him for you now, and you all will find, I trow, That to eat him will be much the better plan."

So they tried it in a trice, and found that it was nice, And with rapture they embracèd one another; And they said, "By hook or crook, we must keep this aged cook; So we'll ask him to become our elder brother."

[_Which they accordingly did._]

AGAMEMNON.

About a king I have to tell, Of all the woes that him befell Through those who should have served him well, Poor Agamemnon! How he was huffed and cuffed about, And tossed from windows, in and out, With jest and gibe and eldritch shout, Poor Agamemnon!

Of worsted was the monarch made, Of gayest colors neatly laid In each imaginable shade, Poor Agamemnon! His trousers were of scarlet hue, His jacket of celestial blue, With snow-white tunic peeping through, Poor Agamemnon!

When he was young and in his prime, On Christmas tree, in Christmas time, He glowed like bird of tropic clime, Poor Agamemnon! His swarthy cheek, his beard of brown, His gay attire and golden crown, Showed him a king of high renown, Poor Agamemnon!

The children, learning then to pore O'er Father Homer's god-like lore, Cried, "See! the king of men once more, Great Agamemnon! Now, when we play the siege of Troy, Achilles, Hector, Ajax boy, With us the fighting he'll enjoy, Great Agamemnon!"

But well-a-day! the war began, And Greek and Trojan, man to man, In god-like fury raged and ran, Poor Agamemnon! 'Twas Ajax seized the king, I trow, And, using him as weapon now, Did smite bold Hector on the brow, Poor Agamemnon!

Then fierce and fell the contest grew; From hand to hand the monarch flew, Still clutched and hurled with fury new, Poor Agamemnon! His beaded eyes wept tears of shame, His worsted cheeks with wrath did flame; In vain he called each hero's name, Poor Agamemnon!

At length great Hector seized the king And gave his mighty arm a swing, Then upward soared with sudden fling, Poor Agamemnon! Upon the high-pitched roof fell he, And there, from Greek and Trojan free, He lay for all the world to see, Poor Agamemnon!

The fierce sun beat upon his head, The rain washed white his trousers red, The moon looked down on him and said, "Poor Agamemnon!" His gold and blue were gray and brown, When Ajax, chief of high renown, The roof-tree scaled, and brought him down, Poor Agamemnon!

And now within the nursery, In doll-house parlor you may see His dim and faded majesty, Poor Agamemnon! And still each little naughty boy, Ranging the cupboards for some toy, Cries out, "Aha! the siege of Troy! Poor Agamemnon!"

THE WEDDING.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding! Gallant young Hyacinth marries the Rose. Here we all wait for the wedding procession, Standing up high on our tippy-toe-toes.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding! First the three ushers on grasshoppers ride,-- Coxcomb, Larkspur, and gallant Sweet William, Handsome young dandies as ever I spied.

Here in a coach come the bride's rich relations,-- Old Madam Damask and old Mr. Moss; Greatly I fear they approve not the marriage, Else they'd not look so uncommonly cross.

Here comes His Excellence Baron de Goldbug, Leading the Dowager Duchess of Snail; Feathers and fringe on the top of her bonnet, Roses and rings on the end of her tail.

Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding! Here come the bridesmaids, by two and by two; Gay little Primrose, fair little Snowdrop, Peachblossom, Jasmine, and Eglantine too.

Last come the lovers, wrapped up in each other, Thinking of love, and of little beside. Blue-bell, bonny bell, ring for the wedding! Health and long life to the beautiful bride!

SWING SONG.

As I swing, as I swing, Here beneath my mother's wing, Here beneath my mother's arm, Never earthly thing can harm. Up and down, to and fro, With a steady sweep I go, Like a swallow on the wing, As I swing, as I swing.

As I swing, as I swing, Honey-bee comes murmuring, Humming softly in my ear, "Come away with me, my dear! In the tiger-lily's cup Sweetest honey we will sup." Go away, you velvet thing! I must swing! I must swing!

As I swing, as I swing, Butterfly comes fluttering, "Little child, now come away 'Mid the clover-blooms to play; Clover-blooms are red and white, Sky is blue, and sun is bright. Why then thus, with folded wing, Sit and swing, sit and swing?"

As I swing, as I swing, Oriole comes hovering. "See my nest in yonder tree! Little child, come work with me.