Part 5
“My dear little drum it was stolen away Whilst I was asleep on a sunshiny day; It was all through the drone of a big bumble-bee, And sheep and a shepherdess under a tree.”
Shepherdess, shepherdess, where is your crook? And why is your little lamb over the brook? It bleats for its dam, and dog Tray is not by, So why do you stand with a tear in your eye?
“My dear little crook it was stolen away Whilst I dreamt a dream on a morning in May; It was all through the drone of a big bumble-bee, And a drum and a drummer-boy under a tree.”
LULLABY
The wind whistled loud at the window-pane-- Go away, wind, and let me sleep! Ruffle the green grass billowy plain, Ruffle the billowy deep! “Hush-a-bye, hush! the wind is fled, The wind cannot ruffle the soft smooth bed,-- Hush thee, darling, sleep!”
The ivy tapped at the window-pane,-- Silence, ivy! and let me sleep! Why do you patter like drops of rain, And then play creepity-creep? “Hush-a-bye, hush! the leaves shall lie still, The moon is walking over the hill,-- Hush thee, darling, sleep!”
A dream-show rode in on a moonbeam white,-- Go away, dreams, and let me sleep! The show may be gay and golden bright, But I do not care to peep. “Hush-a-bye, hush! the dream is fled, A shining angel guards the bed, Hush thee, darling, sleep!”
CLEAN CLARA
What! not know our Clean Clara? Why, the hot folks in Sahara, And the cold Esquimaux, Our little Clara know! Clean Clara, the Poet sings, Cleaned a hundred thousand things!
She cleaned the keys of the harpsichord, She cleaned the hilt of the family sword, She cleaned my lady, she cleaned my lord; All the pictures in their frames, Knights with daggers, and stomachered dames-- Cecils, Godfreys, Montforts, Græmes, Winifreds--all those nice old names!
She cleaned the works of the eight-day clock, She cleaned the spring of a secret lock, She cleaned the mirror, she cleaned the cupboard; All the books she India-rubbered!
She cleaned the Dutch-tiles in the place, She cleaned some very old-fashioned lace; The Countess of Miniver came to her, “Pray, my dear, will you clean my fur?” All her cleanings are admirable;
To count your teeth you will be able, If you look in the walnut table!
She cleaned the tent-stitch and the sampler; She cleaned the tapestry, which was ampler; Joseph going down into the pit, And the Shunammite woman with the boy in a fit; You saw the reapers, _not_ in the distance, And Elisha coming to the child’s assistance, With the house on the wall that was built for the prophet, The chair, the bed, and the bolster of it;
The eyebrows all had a twirl reflective, Just like an eel; to spare invective, There was plenty of colour, but no perspective. However, Clara cleaned it all, With a curious lamp, that hangs in the hall! She cleaned the drops of the chandeliers,-- Madame in mittens was moved to tears!
She cleaned the cage of the cockatoo, The oldest bird that ever grew; I should say a thousand years old would do-- I’m sure he looked it; but nobody knew; She cleaned the china, she cleaned the delf, She cleaned the baby, she cleaned herself!
To-morrow morning she means to try To clean the cobwebs from the sky; Some people say the girl will rue it, But my belief is she will do it.
So I’ve made up my mind to be there to see: There’s a beautiful place in the walnut-tree; The bough is as firm as the solid rock; She brings out her broom at six o’clock.
THE LAVENDER BEDS
The garden was pleasant with old-fashioned flowers, The sunflowers and hollyhocks stood up like towers; There were dark turncap lilies and jessamine rare, And sweet thyme and marjoram scented the air.
The moon made the sun-dial tell the time wrong; ’Twas too late in the year for the nightingale’s song; The box-trees were clipped, and the alleys were straight, Till you came to the shrubbery hard by the gate.
The fairies stepped out of the lavender beds, With mob-caps, or wigs, on their quaint little heads; My lord had a sword and my lady a fan; The music struck up and the dancing began.
I watched them go through with a grave minuet; Wherever they footed the dew was not wet; They bowed and they curtsied, the brave and the fair; And laughter like chirping of crickets was there.
Then all on a sudden a church clock struck loud: A flutter, a shiver, was seen in the crowd, The cock crew, the wind woke, the trees tossed their heads, And the fairy folk hid in the lavender beds.
Little Ditties.
LITTLE DITTIES
I
Winifred waters sat and sighed Under a weeping willow; When she went to bed she cried, Wetting all the pillow;
Kept on crying night and day, Till her friends lost patience; “What shall we do to stop her, pray?” So said her relations.
Send her to the sandy plains, In the zone called torrid: Send her where it never rains, Where the heat is horrid!
Mind that she has only flour For her daily feeding; Let her have a page an hour Of the driest reading,--
Navigation, logarithm, All that kind of knowledge,-- Ancient pedigrees go with ’em, From the Heralds’ College.
When the poor girl has endured Six months of this drying, Winifred will come back cured, Let us hope, of crying.
Then she will not day by day Make those mournful faces, And we shall not have to say, “Wring her pillow-cases.”
II
There was a Little Boy, with two little eyes, And he had a little head that was just the proper size, And two little arms, and two little hands; On two little legs this Little Boy he stands.
Now, this Little Boy would now and then be cross Because that he could only be the very thing he was; He wanted to be this, and then he wanted to be that; His head was full of wishes underneath his little hat!
“I wish I was a drummer to beat a kettledrum, I wish I was a giant to say Fee-fo-fi-faw-fum; I wish I was a captain to go sailing in a ship; I wish I was a huntsman to crack a nice whip.
I wish I was a horse to go sixty miles an hour; I wish I was the man that lives up in the lighthouse tower; I wish I was a sea-gull with two long wings; I wish I was a traveller to see all sorts of things.
I wish I was a carpenter; I wish I was a lord; I wish I was a soldier, with a pistol and a sword; I wish I was the man that goes up high in a balloon; I wish, I wish, I wish I could be something else, and soon!”
But all the wishing in the world is not a bit of use; That Little Boy this very day he stands in his own shoes; That Little Boy is still but little Master What-do-you-call, As much as if that Little Boy had never wished at all!
He eats his bread and butter, and he likes it very much; He grubs about, and bumps his head, and bowls his hoop, and such; And his father and his mother they say, “Thank the gracious powers, Those wishes cannot wish away that Little Boy of ours!”
III
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore-- No doubt you have heard the name before-- Was a boy who never would shut a door!
The wind might whistle, the wind might roar, And teeth be aching and throats be sore, But still he never would shut the door.
His father would beg, his mother implore, “Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore, We really _do_ wish you would shut the door!”
Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore; But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.
When he walked forth the folks would roar, “Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore, Why don’t you think to shut the door?”
They rigged out a Shutter with sail and oar, And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore On a voyage of penance to Singapore.
But he begged for mercy, and said, “No more! Pray do not send me to Singapore On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!”
“You will?” said his parents; “then keep on shore! But mind you do! For the plague is sore Of a fellow that never will shut the door, Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!”
IV
Timothy Tight, Timothy Tight, Says he will neither have sup nor bite, Nor comb to his hair, nor sleep in his bed, Till he has done what he thinks in his head.
What is it poor little Timothy thinks To do before he eats, or drinks, Or combs, or sleeps? Why, Timothy Tight Thinks in his head to turn black into white!
He caught a crow, and he tried with that, He tried again with a great black cat, He tried again with dyes and inks; He keeps on trying to do what he thinks!
He tried with lumps of coals a score, He tried with jet, and a blackamoor, He tried with these till he got vext-- He means to try the Black Sea next.
V
Baby, baby, bless her; How shall mammy dress her?
The summer cloud Is not too proud To find soft wool to dress her.
The bluebell Is a true bell, And will find the blue to dress her.
The cherry-tree Is a merry tree, And will find the pink to dress her.
The lily bright Will find the white, The beautiful white to dress her.
The leaves in the wood Are sweet and good, And will find the green to dress her.
The honeysuckle, With buds for a buckle, Will make a girdle to dress her.
The heavens hold Both silver and gold In the stars, and they will dress her.
VI
There was a man so very tall, That when you spoke you had to bawl Through both your hands, put like a cup, His head was such a long way up!
But there was something even sadder,-- His wife had to go up a ladder Whenever she desired a kiss-- And he, alas, was proud of this!
Said he, “I am the tallest man That ever grew since time began,” As down on a house-top he sat; Well, he _was_ tall; but what of that?
This monstrous man, as we shall see, Was punished for his vanity: He grew and grew,--the people placed A telescope to see his waist!
He grew and grew--you could not see Without a telescope his knee; He grew till he was over-grown, And seen by over-sight alone!
VII
My man John To sea is gone All in a wicker cradle; The cradle creaks, The cradle leaks, But John has got a ladle.
VIII
There is a curious boy, whose name Is Lumpy Loggerhead; His greatest joy is--oh, for shame!-- To spend his time in bed.
They fit with gongs alarum clocks That make your blood run chill; And they encourage crowing cocks Beneath his window-sill.
In vain the gongs,--his eyes are shut-- In vain the cocks do crow; Empty on him a water-butt, And he will say, “Hallo!”
But only in a drowsy style, And in a second more He sleeps--and, oh! to see him smile! And, oh! to hear him snore!
He seems to carry, all day long, Sleep in his very shape; And, though you may be brisk and strong, You often want to gape
When Lumpy Loggerhead comes near, Whose bed is all his joy. How glad I am he is not here, That very sleepy boy!
IX
There was a giant walked out one day, To eat whatever came in his way; This giant was greedy, this giant was grim, And the people were all afraid of him.
He crossed the field and came into the street, And a dainty damsel he there did meet; “What is your name?” says he to her, And she says, “Lucy Locket, sir.”
“A very nice name is Lucy Locket, And you will just fit my waistcoat-pocket;” So said the giant, and popped her in, And the pocket was more than up to her chin.
The giant says, “Oh, this is the street; Your father and mother I mean to eat.” But Lucy, she thought, “You wicked man!” And then to tickle him she began.
Her hand was light, her hand was small, He scarcely felt it at first at all; She tickled and tickled, and by degrees He felt as if he should like to sneeze!
This giant could growl, and shout, and roar, But he never had laughed in his life before, And now he began to look less grim As Lucy kept on tickling him.
The people heard and the people saw,-- “He, hee!” says the giant, “ha hah! haw haw!” Oh, they were puzzled, but Lucy Locket Made signs to them out of his doublet-pocket.
His mad guffaws for a mile they hear, His mouth is stretched from ear to ear; Thinks he, “To laugh is a pleasant plan, So now I will laugh as long as I can.”
He laughed till he ached and his eyes grew dim, As Lucy kept on tickling him; He laughed till the tears ran down his face, And he fell down, flop, in the market-place!
Then out of his pocket Lucy leapt, And close behind him the people crept; With twisted cables and iron bands And things of that sort they tied his hands.
They tied his hands and they tied his feet, They said, “Pray, what would you like to eat?” And Lucy got into his pocket again, And made him laugh like a thousand men!
He laughed all day, he laughed all night, He laughed when they woke in the morning light, He laughed that week and the fortnight after,-- Travellers came to hear his laughter!
They let him laugh on to his heart’s content In a show as high as the Monument; They gave to Lucy a penny clear For every person who came to hear, So now the girl is as rich as a prince, For he has been laughing ever since.
X
Baby, baby bowling, Set the hoop a-rolling; The hoop will wait At the turnpike gate, And the man will take the toll in.
XI
Diddy Doddy Dumpling, Muslin all a-crumpling; Cap like an arch, Stiff with starch-- Diddy Doddy Dumpling!
Niddy Noddy Nursey, How shall we make _her_ see? Bobs and blinks, Wobbles and winks-- Niddy Noddy Nursey!
XII
What do you think? Why, pen and ink, And a rosewood desk, or better; The old black hen, She mended the pen, And the little pig wrote a letter.
XIII
Johnny drew a picture, but Johnny couldn’t spell; What he wrote under it I’m ashamed to tell; All in large capitals Johnny wrote PECTURE, Stuck it up upon the wall, and said that he would lecture; What a funny lecture, though, Johnny will deliver; While, with aches at his mistakes, all the people shiver!
XIV
Mind the cat, Find the cat, Who will be first behind the cat? The cat’s on the mat In a billycock hat, And that’s the way to find the cat.
XV
Large eyes, little eyes, brown eyes, blue eyes, My doll has had an accident and wants a pair of new eyes; Strong legs, long legs, one leg and two legs, My doll has had an accident and wants a pair of new legs; Dribble dribble, trickle trickle, what a lot of raw dust! Dolly had an accident, and out came the sawdust!
XVI
One, two, three, Put the cups for tea; Two, three, one, Toast a Sally-Lunn. Fanny sat down In a new gown; Emma spilt the milk Over the satin and silk, One, two, three, “Never wear silk at tea,”
(Two, three, one), So said Dimity Dunn; Ever so many slices, Bread and butter, and niceys; One, two, three, White sugar for me! Two, three, one, Now the tea’s done.
XVII
Baby has just been feeding; See, he has emptied the cup! And now he sits a-reading, But the book is wrong-side up;
Will he make out what the book is about Before it is time to sup? His fist he doubles; He blows little bubbles; He splutters and stutters, And tells you his troubles, Reading the book that is wrong-side up!
XVIII
“Daughter, daughter, Mind the water!” She said she never should, So she went in Right up to her chin, And did not find it good;
For the water was bitter, And made her twitter, As nobody thought she could! She cried in haste, “What a nasty taste! I wish I had understood!”
Oh, send and save her! A beautiful flavour Is not to be found in the flood; And wine or tea Is the drink for me At a picnic in the wood!
XIX
Hurly Burly And Curly Wurly Went to the fair together; It rained in the night For more delight, And it was windy weather.
Hurly Burly jumped the stiles, Laughed and in-and-outed; Hurly Burly ran for miles, Hurly Burly shouted.
Curly Wurly went off in smiles, Except just when she pouted! The Quakeress peeped from under the tiles, Saying, “If I could smile as thou did!”
Hurly Buriy’s talk was mad, Like Singlestick and Latin; Curly Wurly a sweet tongue had, And she was soft as satin.
Then Hurly Burly and Curly Wurly, When they had their airing, Came home betimes, like a poet’s rhymes, Each of them with a fairing.
For he had a monstrous popgun got, That went with a noise like thunder; And she had a beautiful true-love knot, That never would come in sunder.
XX
Nathan Nobb, Oh, what a job! Always walked on his head; His mother would sob To his brother Bob, And his father took to his bed.
They made him a boot His head to suit, But a horrible thing must be said,-- His hair took root, And began to shoot, One day, in the garden bed!
So there he stands With the help of his hands And a little support from his nose: The gardener man, With the watering-can, Says, “Gracious, how fast he grows!”
XXI
Blow, blow, east wind! What does the east wind do? Shine, shine, sunlight! And what does the sunshine do? The sunshine clear Goes there and here, And searches in every nook, And, while it is going, The wind is blowing Farther than you can look; The east wind blows, It sweeps, it goes The whole world through; As the world grows green, It sweeps it clean, And the sky is a pale, cold blue: Blow, blow, east wind, Finish your blowing, do! And the west wind, dear, will soon be here, With skies of deep, warm blue.
Baby’s Bells
BABY’S BELLS
I
Ding, Dong, and Dell Went and sat under the bell, Saying, “Bell, bell, bell, What have you got to tell?” And the clapper rose and fell, And the bell rang well Over Ding, Dong, and Dell, As they sat under the bell.
Here is pencil, and here is pen, Walk up, ladies and gentlemen! Here are their pictures, as you see, Ding, and Dong, and Dell make three, There they are, and here are we.
First there is Ding, a dot of a thing, And, not to go wrong, her brother Dong, A little older and ever so much bolder, And both of them seem ready to sing, And Dell will belong and take part in the song.
Now Dell--I am not so sure about Dell-- Dell wears a mask, and hides till you ask, And peeps at you from over a screen; But if you must know the truth of it,--well!-- I really am not so sure about Dell.
So Ding, Dong, and Dell Went and sat under the bell, Saying, “Bell, bell, bell, What have you got to tell?” And the clapper rose and fell, And the bell rang well Over Ding, Dong, and Dell, As they sat under the bell.
II
Ding and Dong went out a-walking, Ding and Dong were gaily talking: “My eyes are strong, You know,” says Dong, “And once on a time I saw through a wall.” “And so did I,” says little Ding, “I also can do a wonderful thing.”
Thus they disputed, and by-and-bye Poor little Ding began to cry. “You didn’t,” says Dong; “it isn’t true----” I did, you didn’t, no more did you, You didn’t, I did, you didn’t, pooh!
So they came squabbling to Dell, who said, “You both deserve to be put to bed. When Ding saw through a wall, the wall Was made of glass, and that is all! When Dong saw through a wall, it had A hole in it.” Then both were glad, Ding and Dong, that they thought to ask Dell of the screen, who wore the mask; And Ding and Dong said, “Clever Dell; Who would have thought that Dell could tell?
III
Ding and Dong, because they find Dell so very clever. Say they have made up their mind To go in masks for ever. Is there wisdom in a mask? They are none the wittier yet; Is there beauty? do not ask! They are none the prettier yet!
IV
The girls and the boys They made such a noise At play, that they frightened away their toys. Dolly, she fled, And went to bed, Because she had caught such a pain in her head! The German bricks, The candlesticks, The elephant, And the cormorant, The ass and the horse, And the rest in their course, (But there was no shark,) Of the Noah’s Ark, The saucers and the cups, And the little woolly pups, (You heard them bark) Belonging to the Ark, Were frightened, like all the rest of the toys, And hid themselves from the dreadful noise: So, if I were you, next time I played, I would not be so loud in the noise that I made!
V
Sparrow, sparrow, Swift as an arrow, What are you doing there in the sun? A hunter am I, And the white butterfly I am chasing to-day in the summer sun.
VI
Sit in the sun Till the day is done, Reading and working and making fun: Then look at the moon, And eat with a spoon A basin of sop that is made from a bun.
VII
What makes the starling so merry? The starling has had a cherry, A cherry as soft as a baby’s cheek, I can see the pulp hanging out of his beak. This is the lass, this is the lad, That like to see the starling glad!
VIII
Here is a rug That looks very snug; And here is a cat-- What shall we be at? You take off your bonnet, I take off my hat, And let us sit upon it, And talk to the cat-- Not upon the hat, you know, But on the little rug-- The hat would not come pat, you know, But, oh, the rug is snug! Ding, Dong, Dell, Said “Bell, bell, bell! What have you got to tell?”-- And you hear what the bells say From Greenwich up to Chelsea; Ring, ring, ring, About this, and the other thing, These, and those, and that, The cat, and the rug, and the mat, The Noah’s Ark and the sparrow, And the sop as soft as marrow! And whether you live by Bow bells, Or out in a place with no bells, And neither at Greenwich nor at Chelsea, You shall hear what the different bells say From Ding, Dong, and Dell, Who like to sit under the bell.
IX