Part 7

His father was a whale, With a feather in his tail, Who lived in the Greenland sea; And his mother was a shark, Who kept very dark In the Gulf of Caribbee. His uncles were a skate, And a little whitebait, And a flounder, and a chub beside; And a lovely pickerèl, Both a beauty and a belle, Had promised for to be his bride. You may think these things are strange, And they _are_ a little change From the ordinary run, 'tis true; But the queerest thing (to me) Of all appeared to be, That _he_ was a kangaroo!

EASTER-TIME.

The little flowers came through the ground, At Easter-time, at Easter-time; They raised their heads and looked around, At happy Easter-time. And every pretty bud did say, "Good people, bless this holy day; For Christ is risen, the angels say, This happy Easter-time."

The scarlet lily raised its cup, At Easter-time, at Easter-time; The crocus to the sky looked up, At happy Easter-time. "We hear the song of heaven!" they say; "Its glory shines on us to-day, Oh! may it shine on us alway, At happy Easter-time."

'Twas long and long and long ago, That Easter-time, that Easter-time; But still the scarlet lilies blow At happy Easter-time. And still each little flower doth say, "Good Christians, bless this holy day; For Christ is risen, the angels say, At blessed Easter-time."

EASTER.

Give flowers to all the children, This blessed Easter Day,-- Fair crocuses and snowdrops, And tulips brave and gay;

Bright nodding daffodillies, And purple iris tall, And sprays of silver lilies, The loveliest of all.

And tell them, tell the children, How in the dark, cold earth, The flowers have been waiting Till spring should give them birth.

All winter long they waited, Till the south wind's soft breath Bade them rise up in beauty, And bid farewell to death.

Then tell the little children How Christ our Saviour, too, The flower of all eternity, Once death and darkness knew.

How, like these blossoms, silent, Within the tomb he lay; Then rose in light and glory, To live in heaven alway.

So take the flowers, children, And be ye pure as they; And sing of Christ our Saviour, This blessed Easter Day.

JACKY FROST.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost, Came in the night; Left the meadows that he crossed All gleaming white. Painted with his silver brush Every window-pane; Kissed the leaves and made them blush, Blush and blush again.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost, Crept around the house, Sly as a silver fox, Still as a mouse. Out little Jenny came, Blushing like a rose; Up jumped Jacky Frost, And pinched her little nose.

SUBTRACTION.

Six from four leaves two, Mamma, Six from four leaves two. Surely that is right, Mamma,-- Don't you think 'twill do?

Please don't shake your head, Mamma! Well, it's _nearly_ right; And what difference does it make If it isn't _quite_?

Hark! the boys are there, Mamma, Out upon the lawn; If I don't go soon, Mamma, They will all be gone.

_I_ would let _you_ go, Mamma, Were I teaching you. Six from four leaves two--oh dear!

_Four_ from _six_ leaves two, Mamma! Now I have it right. Well! upon my word, I think I wasn't very bright.

Dear Mamma, before I go, Here's a kiss for you. Four from six leaves two, hurrah! Four from six leaves two!

GRANDFATHER DEAR.

[_Written for Decoration Day._]

Jonquil and daffodil mine, Lift me your golden-crowned heads! Cockscomb and peony fine, Lend me your lordliest reds! Tying my posy up here, I must have flowers at will; They are for Grandfather dear, There where he sleeps on the hill.

Grandfather dear was a soldier, Gallant and handsome and young. Flowers, I'll show you his picture, Over the shelf where 'tis hung. Yes, and his sword hangs beneath it, The sword that he waved as he fell, Fighting on Winchester Field,-- The field he was holding so well.

So when the year's at the sweetest, Mother and Grandmother dear And I, we go gathering flowers, So sweet as they're blossoming here. And when Grandfather looks down from heaven, As he looks, and looks lovingly still, He smiles as he sees his own flowers, All shining and sweet on the hill.

GATHERING APPLES.

Down in the orchard, down in the orchard, Under the gold-apple tree, One little maid and two little maids Frolic, merry and free. Brown as a berry, red as a rose, Sweeter maidens nobody knows. "What are you doing, Marjorie? Marjorie, tell to me?" Up she lifted her curly head, (Oh, but her cheeks were rosy-red!) Shaking her curls right saucily, "I'm gathering apples!" said she, said she, "I'm gathering apples!" said she.

Down in the orchard, down in the orchard, Under the gold-apple tree, Softly treading, the farmer came, Peeping so warily. Six feet high from his head to his toes; A jollier farmer nobody knows. "What are you doing, farmer, pray? Jolly old farmer, say!" Up he caught them both in his arms; Oh, the shrieks, the merry alarms! Closer clasping them lovingly, "I'm gathering apples!" said he, said he, "I'm gathering apples!" said he.

THE BALLAD OF THE BEACH.

"Take off thy stockings, Samuel! Now take them off, I pray; Roll up thy trousers, Samuel, And come with me to play.

"The ebbing tide has left the sand All hard and smooth and white, And we will build a goodly fort, And have a goodly fight."

Then Samuel he pullèd off His hose of scarlet hue, And Samuel he rollèd up His breeches darkly blue.

And hand-in-hand with Reginald, He hied him to the beach; Each little boy a shovel had, And eke a pail had each.

Then down upon the shining sand Right joyfully they sat; And far upon the shining sand Each tossed his broad-brimmed hat.

Then valiantly to work they went, Like sturdy lads and true; And there they built a stately fort, The best that they might do.

"Now sit we down within the walls, Which rise above our head, And we will make us cannon-balls Of sand, as good as lead."

Now as they worked, these little boys, Full glad in heart and mind, The creeping tide came back again, To see what it could find.

The creeping tide came up the sand, To see what it could do; And there it found two broad-brimmed hats, With ribbons red and blue.

And "See now!" said the creeping tide; "These hats belong, I trow, To Reginald and Samuel; I saw them here but now."

And "See now!" said the creeping tide; "What hinders me to float These hats out to the boys' mamma, Is sailing in a boat?"

Then up there came two little waves, All rippling so free; They lifted up the broad-brimmed hats, And bore them out to sea.

The ribbons red and ribbons blue Streamed gallantly away; The straw did glitter in the sun, Were never craft so gay!

The mother of these little lads Was sailing on the sea; And now she laughed, and now she sang, And who so blithe as she?

And "Look!" she said; "what things be these That dance upon the wave, All fluttering and glittering And sparkling so brave?

"Now row me well, my brethren, twain, Now row me o'er the sea! For we will chase these tiny craft, And see what they may be."

They rowed her fast, they rowed her well,-- Too well, those gallants true; For when she reached the broad-brimmed hats, Right well those hats she knew.

"Alas!" she cried; "my little lads Are drownèd in the sea!" Then down she sank in deadly swoon, As pale as she might be.

They rowed her well, those gallants gay, They rowed her to the land; They lifted up that lady pale, And bore her up the strand.

But as they bore her up the beach, The balls began to fly, And hit those gallants on the nose, And hit them in the eye.

They lookèd here, they lookèd there, To see whence this might be; And soon they spied a stately fort, Beside the salt, salt sea.

And straight from out the stately fort The balls were flying free; Each gallant rubbed his smitten nose, And eke his eye rubbed he.

They looked within the stately fort, To see who aimed so well; And there was little Reginald, And youthful Samuel.

They lifted up those little lads, Each by his waisty-band; And down beside that lady pale They set them on the sand.

And first that lady waxed more pale, And syne she waxed full red; And syne she kissed those little boys, But not a word she said.

Then up and spoke those gallants gay, "You naughty little chaps, Your poor mamma you've frightened sore, And made her ill, perhaps.

"And if you are not shaken well, And if you are not spanked, It will not be your uncles' fault; So _they_ need not be thanked."

Then up and spoke those little lads, All mournful as they sat; And each did cry, "Ah, woe is me! I've lost--my nice--new--hat!"

Then up and spoke that lady fair, "Nay, nay, my little dears, You sha'n't be spanked! so come with me, And wipe away your tears.

"There be more hats in Boston town, For little boys to wear; And as for those that you have lost, I pray their voyage be fair.

"For since I have my little lads, The hats may sail away Around the world and back again, Forever and a day!"

THE BOOTS OF A HOUSEHOLD.

[_After Mrs. Hemans._]

They came in beauty, side by side, They filled one house with noise; And now they're trotting far and wide, On feet of girls and boys.

The self-same shoemaker did bend O'er every heel and toe; Shaped all their upper leathers fair,-- Where are those leathers now?

One pair is kicking 'gainst the bench, The patient bench, at school; And two are wading through the mud, And splashing in the pool.

"The sea, the blue, lone sea," hath one. He left it on the beach; A merry wave came dancing up, And bore it out of reach.

One sleeps where depths of slimy bog Are glossed with grasses o'er; One hasty plunge--it loosed its hold, And sank to rise no more.

One pair--aha! I see them now, And know them past all doubt; For through each leather, gaping wide, A rosy toe peeps out.

And parted thus, old, dusty, torn, They travel far and wide, Who in the shop, in shining rows, Sat lately side by side.

And thus they frolic, frolic there, And thus they caper here; But great and small, and torn and all, To mother's heart are dear.

[N. B.--_Also to father's purse._]

THE PALACE

It's far away under the water, And it's far away under the sea, There's a beautiful palace a-waiting For my little Rosy and me.

The roof is made of coral, And the floor is made of pearl, And over it all the great waves fall With a terrible tumble and whirl.

The fishes swim in at the window, And the fishes swim out at the door, And the lobsters and eels go dancing quadrilles All over the beautiful floor.

There's a silver throne at on end, And a golden throne at the other; And on them you see, as plain as can be, "Queen Rosy" and "Queen Mother."

And I will sit on the silver throne, And Rosy shall sit on the gold; And there we will stay, and frolic and play, Until we're a thousand years old.

BUNKER HILL MONUMENT.

Do you see that stately column, Children dear, Lifting its gray head to heaven, Year by year? Telling of the battle fought, Telling of the good work wrought, Telling of the victory bought, Bought so dear!

Oh! the costly blood that flowed, Children mine! Fast as from the purple grapes Flows the wine! Oh! the heroes lying dead! Oh! the women's hearts that bled! Oh! the bitter tears they shed, Children mine!

Long ago the tears were dried, Children dear! Long ago the weepers died, Year by year. But the column old and gray Tells the story day by day. "Victory!" it seems to say. "Victory's here!"

MAY.

Is there anything new to sing about you, May, my dear? Any unhackneyed thing about you, Pray, my dear? Anything that has not been sung Long ago, when the world was young, By silver throat and golden tongue? Say, my dear!

So many have said that your eyes are blue, May, my dear; It must be a tiresome fact, though true, May, my dear. And if I, for one, my gracious Queen, Should boldly assert that your eyes are green, 'Twould be a relief to you, I ween. Eh, my dear?

We know, at the touch of your garment's fold, May, my dear, The daisies come starring with white and gold The way, my dear; We know that the painted blossoms all Come starting up at your gentle call, By dale and meadow and garden wall, May, my dear.

We know that your birds have the sweetest tune, May, my dear; And lovers love best beneath your moon, They say, my dear. And I might add that your perfumed kiss Is considered productive of highest bliss; But you must be so tired of hearing this. Eh, my dear?

No, I really don't think there's anything fresh Or new, my dear; For life is short, and available rhymes Are few, my dear. So if I say nought about vernal bowers, And forbear to mention the sunlit showers, I think I shall make the best use of my powers. Don't you, my dear?

And yet--yet I cannot help loving you so, May, my dear, That the old words, whether I will or no, I say, my dear. And how you are fair, and how you are sweet, My loving lips forever repeat,-- And is this the reason you pass so fleet? Ah, stay, my dear!

GREGORY GRIGGS.

Gregory Griggs, Gregory Griggs, Had forty-seven different wigs; He wore them up, and he wore them down, To please the people of Boston town. He wore them east, and he wore them west, But he never could tell which he liked the best.

A NURSERY TRAGEDY.

It was a lordly elephant, His name, his name was Sprite; He stood upon the nursery floor, All ready for a fight.

He looked upon the rocking-horse, Who proudly prancing stood: "O rocking-horse! O shocking horse! I'm thirsting for your blood!

"How dare you stand and look at me, You ugly snorting thing? Know, that of every living beast, The elephant is king!

"And if a person looks at me, Unless I give him leave, He's very apt to meet his death Too swiftly for reprieve.

"You are the most unpleasant beast I e'er have looked on yet; Although the stupid children here Will make of you a pet.

"I hate your tail of waving hair! I hate your bits of brass! But more, oh, more than all, I hate Your gleaming eyes of glass!

"Were you of cotton-flannel made, As nursery beasts should be, With eyes of good black boot-buttons, You then might look at me.

"I might forgive your want of tusks, Your lack of trunk forgive; But that wild, goggling, glassy glare-- No! never, while I live!

"So get you gone, you rocking-horse! Go to your closet-shed, And there, behind the wood-basket, Conceal your ugly head!"

But as the elephant thus did scold And rage and fume and roar, The rocking-horse rocked over him, And crushed him to the floor.

THE UMBRELLA BRIGADE

"Pitter patter!" falls the rain On the school-room window-pane. Such a plashing! such a dashing! Will it e'er be dry again? Down the gutter rolls a flood, And the crossing's deep in mud; And the puddles! oh, the puddles Are a sight to stir one's blood!

_Chorus._

But let it rain Tree-toads and frogs, Muskets and pitchforks, Kittens and dogs! Dash away! plash away! Who is afraid? Here we go, The Umbrella Brigade!

Pull the boots up to the knee! Tie the hoods on merrily! Such a hustling! such a jostling! Out of breath with fun are we. Clatter, clatter, down the street, Greeting every one we meet, With our laughing and our chaffing, Which the laughing drops repeat.

_Chorus._

So let it rain Tree-toads and frogs, Muskets and pitchforks, Kittens and dogs! Dash away! plash away! Who is afraid? Here we go, The Umbrella Brigade!

THE PRINCESS IN SATURN AND THE RED MAN IN MARS.

There once was a princess both fair and tall, Who did not live on this earth at all. She lived up in Saturn, And she was a pattern Of every accomplishment, great and small; The graces and virtues, she had them all.

Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, she had them pat; And she played on the sackbut! think of that! And she sang so sweet, All the birds at her feet With envy and sorrow fell down quite flat; I've been told they fell down quite remarkably flat.

Now all the princes and all the kings Who lived in Saturn and all his rings, They came and knelt Where the princess dwelt; And they brought her all sorts of beautiful things,-- Oh! quite an assortment of elegant things.

For one king brought her a diamond hat; And another presented a two-legged cat; While another one said, "When my uncle is dead, I will give you his monkey. Be sure of that! His talented monkey; depend upon that!"

One powerful prince, with a haughty stride, Came forward and said, "If you'll be my bride, You shall have the Great Bear To powder your hair, And the small one to lace up your boots beside,-- To lace up your boots, and to shine them beside."

But the princess sighed; and softly she said, "Alas! not one of you all can I wed. 'Tis my positive plan To marry a man Who lives up in Mars, and is painted red,-- From his head to his feet, quite a violent red.

"I have often looked through my opera-glass, And up and down I have seen him pass; And so bright was his hue, And so lovely to view, I felt that in him lay my fate, alas! I read in his red my own fate, alas!

"So now, if you love me as fond and true As all of you think that all of you do, You will help me to wed My 'Study in Red.' Oh, kings and princes, now pray you, do! You _dear_ kings and princes, I beg of you, do!"

The kings and princes arose with a frown, And first they looked up, and then they looked down. Not a man of them spoke Till he'd straightened his cloak, And settled his wig, and adjusted his crown.

And then, "If you honestly wish," they said, "To marry a man who is _painted red_" (In Saturn, I ween, All the people are green), "We don't know that there's anything more to be said,-- Your Highness, there seems nothing more to be said."

So they called a comet, and told him to go To the Red Man in Mars, and give him to know That a princess in Saturn, Of virtues the pattern, Desired to marry him, whether or no,-- Was determined to marry him, whether or no.

Away whizzed the comet, and soon he came To the Red Man in Mars, and called him by name. And telling his news, Begged him not to refuse To send back an answer at once to the same,-- "Just you make up your mind in regard to the same!"

But the Red Man sighed, and mournfully said, "My friend, 'tis our law that all wives _must_ be red; And if I should be seen With a wife who is green, Our king would be apt at removing my head,-- Not a moment he'd lose in removing my head.

"But if the young lady (who's surely most kind), Could in any way make up her princessly mind To turn _herself red_, It need hardly be said That a lover devoted in me she would find,-- That a husband adoring in me she would find."

The comet whizzed back with the answer again, And the kings and the princes received it with pain. "Sure, the princess's green Has so brilliant a sheen, That the thought of a change is exceedingly vain,-- The idea of a change is prepost'rously vain."

But when the princess this message heard, She said, "I see nothing in this that's absurd." Then to blush she began; And she blushed till the Man In Mars was less ruddy by half, on my word,-- Less red by a generous half, on my word!

She blushed over cheek and lip and brow, From her fair little head to her trim little toe. And her hat and her shoe, And her farthingale too, They blushed just as red as herself, I vow,-- They blushed for the love of herself, I vow.

She blushed till the Northern Lights grew pale; And the Scorpion danced on the tip of his tail; And the Red Man came In a fiery flame, And cried, "My bee-yutiful bride, all hail! My blushing, bee-yutiful bride, all hail!"

And so they were married, both he and she, And the color of both was quite scarlet to see. And they lived, the tale says, To the end of their days, As happy, as happy, as happy could be: Sure, no other couple so happy could be.

For she loved him in Hebrew, and likewise in Greek, And the Latin tongue also she freely did speak. And the sackbut she'd play Every hour in the day, Till the Red Man in Mars would with ecstasy squeak,-- Till her cochineal husband with rapture would squeak.

But the people in Saturn were sad, I ween, And evermore greener they grew, and more green; And the princes and kings Said such heartbreaking things, In these mirth-loving pages they must not be seen: I really must stop, And the subject must drop, For it won't do at all for such things to be seen.

WIGGLE AND WAGGLE AND BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, They went their fortunes for to seek; They went to sea in a chicken-coop, And they lived on mulligatawney soup.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, They cooked their soup every day in the week; They cooked their soup in a chimney-pot, For there the water was always hot.

Wiggle and Waggle and Bubble and Squeak, Each gave the other one's nose a tweak; They tweaked so hard that it took their breath, And so they met an untimely death.

GRET GRAN'F'THER.

What! take Gret Gran'f'ther's musket, Thet he kerried at Bunker Hill, An' go a-gunnin' fer sparrers With Solomon Judd an' Bill?

You let thet musket alone, Dan'l! An' git down from thet air stool. You've just time enough to hold this yarn Afore ye go off to school.

Thar! don't ye wriggle an' twist, sonny! The yarn's fer yer own new socks; It's safer to hold than muskets, With their triggers an' riggers an' locks.

A musket to shoot at sparrers! Wal, boys is up to sech tricks! An' thet old un, too, thet ain't ben tetched Sence seventeen seventy-six!