Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 In my nursery
 The baby's future
 Baby's hand
 The first tooth
 Johnny's by-low song
 Baby's valentine
 The rain
 The ballad of the fairy spoon
 Song of the little winds
 Good-night song
 Another "good-night"
 Little old baby
 The bumblebee
 The owl and the eel and the...
 Young (one)'s night thoughts
 Little sunbeam
 Baby's belongings
 Infantry tactics
 Baby Bo
 The difference
 Little John Bottlejohn
 Jemima Brown
 Alice's supper
 Bobbily Boo and Wollypotump
 Little brown Bobby
 Phil's secret
 A song for Hal
 The fairies
 The queen of the Orkney Island...
 Baby's ways
 Pot and kettle
 Punkydoodle and jollapin
 Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblech...
 My sunbeams
 In the closet
 Belinda blonde
 Tommy's dream; or, the geography...
 Polly's year
 What the robins sing in the...
 The dandy cat
 A party
 Jumbo Jee
 An Indian ballad
 The egg
 Nonsense verses
 An old rat's tale
 To the little girl who wriggle...
 The forty little ducklings
 The mouse
 A valentine
 Jamie in the garden
 Somebody's boy (not mine)
 The mermaidens
 The Phrisky Phrog
 The ambitious chicken
 The boy and the brook
 The shark
 The Easter hen
 Pump and planet
 The postman
 Hopsy upsy
 Little black monkey
 Jippy and Jimmy
 Master Jack's song
 Mother Rosebush
 The five little princesses
 The hornet and the bee
 The three little chickens who went...
 A legend of Lake Okeefinokee
 Grandpapa's valentine
 The three fishers
 May song
 Two little valentines
 A howl about an owl
 Our celebration
 The song of the corn-popper
 What Bobby said
 Master Jack's views
 Emily Jane
 Song of the mother whose children...
 The seven little tigers and the...
 The wedding
 Swing song
 The little Cossack
 What a very rude little bird said...
 The monkeys and the crocodile
 Painted ladies
 Some fishy nonsense
 Lady's slipper
 A little song to sing to a little...
 Betty in blossom-time
 Betty's song
 A nonsense tragedy
 From New York to Boston
 Sandy Godolphin
 My clock
 My Uncle Jehoshaphat
 Rosy Posy
 My wallpaper
 My Japanese fan
 Marjorie's knitting
 He and his family
 Jacky Frost
 Grandfather dear
 Gathering apples
 The ballad of the beach
 The boots of a household
 The palace
 Bunker hill monument
 Gregory Griggs
 A nursery tragedy
 The umbrella brigade
 The princess in Saturn and the...
 Wiggle and waggle and bubble and...
 Gret Gran'f'ther
 Day dreams
 The battle
 The strange beast
 A garden jingle
 The baby goes to Boston
 The flag in the schoolroom
 Johnny Jump-up
 The outlandishman
 A sleigh-ride
 The little gnome
 The little Dutchess
 Back Cover

Title: In my nursery
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080022/00001
 Material Information
Title: In my nursery
Physical Description: 238 p. : ill. ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe, 1850-1943
Little, Brown and Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Little Brown and Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1890
Subject: Nursery rhymes   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1890   ( rbgenr )
Nursery rhymes -- 1890   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1890
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Nursery rhymes   ( rbgenr )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: by Laura E. Richards.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080022
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001498261
oclc - 07243631
notis - AHB0918

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page ix
        Page x
        Page xi
        Page 8
    In my nursery
        Page 9
    The baby's future
        Page 10
        Page 11
    Baby's hand
        Page 12
        Page 13
    The first tooth
        Page 14
    Johnny's by-low song
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Baby's valentine
        Page 17
    The rain
        Page 18
    The ballad of the fairy spoon
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Song of the little winds
        Page 24
    Good-night song
        Page 25
    Another "good-night"
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Little old baby
        Page 28 (MULTIPLE)
    The bumblebee
        Page 29
    The owl and the eel and the warming-pan
        Page 30
    Young (one)'s night thoughts
        Page 31
    Little sunbeam
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Baby's belongings
        Page 34
    Infantry tactics
        Page 35
    Baby Bo
        Page 36
    The difference
        Page 37
    Little John Bottlejohn
        Page 38
        Page 39
    Jemima Brown
        Page 40
        Page 41
    Alice's supper
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    Bobbily Boo and Wollypotump
        Page 46 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 47
    Little brown Bobby
        Page 48
    Phil's secret
        Page 49
    A song for Hal
        Page 50
    The fairies
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    The queen of the Orkney Islands
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Baby's ways
        Page 56
    Pot and kettle
        Page 57
    Punkydoodle and jollapin
        Page 58
    Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblechin
        Page 59
        Page 60
    My sunbeams
        Page 61
    In the closet
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Belinda blonde
        Page 70
    Tommy's dream; or, the geography demon
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Polly's year
        Page 74
    What the robins sing in the morning
        Page 75 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 76
        Page 77
    The dandy cat
        Page 78
        Page 79
    A party
        Page 80
    Jumbo Jee
        Page 81
    An Indian ballad
        Page 82
        Page 83
    The egg
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Nonsense verses
        Page 87
    An old rat's tale
        Page 88
    To the little girl who wriggles
        Page 89
    The forty little ducklings
        Page 90
        Page 91
    The mouse
        Page 92
    A valentine
        Page 93
    Jamie in the garden
        Page 94
    Somebody's boy (not mine)
        Page 95
        Page 96
    The mermaidens
        Page 97
    The Phrisky Phrog
        Page 98
        Page 99
    The ambitious chicken
        Page 100
        Page 101
    The boy and the brook
        Page 102
    The shark
        Page 103
        Page 104
    The Easter hen
        Page 105
    Pump and planet
        Page 106
        Page 107
    The postman
        Page 108
    Hopsy upsy
        Page 109
    Little black monkey
        Page 110
        Page 111
    Jippy and Jimmy
        Page 112
    Master Jack's song
        Page 113
        Page 114
    Mother Rosebush
        Page 115
    The five little princesses
        Page 116
    The hornet and the bee
        Page 117
        Page 118
    The three little chickens who went out to tea, and the elephant
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    A legend of Lake Okeefinokee
        Page 122
        Page 123
    Grandpapa's valentine
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
    The three fishers
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
    May song
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
    Two little valentines
        Page 133
    A howl about an owl
        Page 134
    Our celebration
        Page 135
    The song of the corn-popper
        Page 136
    What Bobby said
        Page 137
    Master Jack's views
        Page 138
        Page 139
    Emily Jane
        Page 140
    Song of the mother whose children are fond of drawing
        Page 141
        Page 142
    The seven little tigers and the aged cook
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
    The wedding
        Page 148
    Swing song
        Page 149
    The little Cossack
        Page 150
        Page 151
    What a very rude little bird said to Johnny this morning
        Page 152
    The monkeys and the crocodile
        Page 153
        Page 154
    Painted ladies
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
    Some fishy nonsense
        Page 158
    Lady's slipper
        Page 159
        Page 160
    A little song to sing to a little maid in a swing
        Page 161
        Page 162
    Betty in blossom-time
        Page 163
    Betty's song
        Page 164
    A nonsense tragedy
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
    From New York to Boston
        Page 168
        Page 169
    Sandy Godolphin
        Page 170
    My clock
        Page 171
        Page 172
    My Uncle Jehoshaphat
        Page 173
    Rosy Posy
        Page 174
    My wallpaper
        Page 175
        Page 176
    My Japanese fan
        Page 177
        Page 178
    Marjorie's knitting
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
    He and his family
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
    Jacky Frost
        Page 185
        Page 186
    Grandfather dear
        Page 187
    Gathering apples
        Page 188
        Page 189
    The ballad of the beach
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    The boots of a household
        Page 194
        Page 195
    The palace
        Page 196
        Page 197
    Bunker hill monument
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
    Gregory Griggs
        Page 201
    A nursery tragedy
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
    The umbrella brigade
        Page 205
        Page 206
    The princess in Saturn and the red man in Mars
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
    Wiggle and waggle and bubble and squeak
        Page 212
    Gret Gran'f'ther
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
    Day dreams
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
    The battle
        Page 222
        Page 223
    The strange beast
        Page 224
    A garden jingle
        Page 225
    The baby goes to Boston
        Page 226
        Page 227
    The flag in the schoolroom
        Page 228
    Johnny Jump-up
        Page 229
    The outlandishman
        Page 230
    A sleigh-ride
        Page 231
    The little gnome
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
    The little Dutchess
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
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Sweet! when first my baby ear
Curled itself and learned to hear,
'Twas your silver-singing voice
Made my baby heart rejoice.

Hushed upon your tender breast,
Soft you sang me to my rest;
Waking, when I sought my play,
Still your singing led the way.

Cradle songs, more soft and low
Than the bird croons on the bough;
Olden ballads, grave and gay,
Warrior's chant, and lover's lay.

So my baby hours went
In a cadence of content,
To the music and the rhyme
Keeping tune and keeping time.


So you taught me, too, ere long,
All our life should be a song, -
Should a faltering prelude be
To the heavenly harmony;

And with gracious words and high,
Bade me look beyond the sky,
To the Glory throned above,
To th' eternal Light and Love.

Many years have blossomed by:
Far and far from childhood I;
Yet its sunrays on me fall,
Here among my children all.

So among my babes I go,
Singing high and singing low;
Striving for the silver tone
Which my memory holds alone.

If I chant my little lays
Tunefully, be yours the praise;
If I fail, 't is I must rue
Not t' have closelier followed you.


Dedication .............. ......... .. v
In my Nursery .............. .... .... 9
The Baby's Future . ... . ... 10
Baby's Hand ....................... 12
The First Tooth . . . . 14
Johnny's By-low Song . . . .. 15
Baby's Valentine . . . . 17I
The Rain . . . . . 18
The Ballad of the Fairy Spoon .. . .... 19
Song of the Little Winds . . .... 24
Good-night Song. ...................... 25
Another "Good-night" . . . .. .26

"A Bee came tumbling" . . .. -26
Jingle . . . . .. .. 27
Little Old Baby .. . . . .. 28
Baby's Journey . . . . . 28
The Bumble-bee . . . . 29
The Owl and the Eel and the Warming-pan . .. 30
Young (one)'s Night Thoughts . . 31
Little Sunbeam . . . ..... 32
Baby's Belongings . . . . ... 34
Infantry Tactics .................... 35
Baby Bo . .... . . ... ... 36
The Difference . . . ... 37
Little John Bottlejohn . . ... 38
Jemima Brown . . . . .. 40
Alice's Supper .. . . ... . 42
Toddlekins . ... . .. ... 45
Bobbily Boo and Wollypotump . . 46
Sleepyland ......... ............ 46
Little Brown Bobby . . . 48
Phil's Secret . . . . 49
A Song for Hal . . . . 50
The Fairies . . . . . 51
The Queen of the Orkney Islands . . ... 54
Baby's Ways ......... .. .......... 56
Pot and Kettle . . .. . . 57
Punkydoodle and Jollapin ....... .. . 58
Mrs. Snipkin and Mrs. Wobblechin . .. .... 59
My Sunbeams . . . .. . 61
In the Closet .. . . .. .. 62
Bed-time .. . .. . ... . .. 64
Bird-song .. ... ...... .. 65
Geographi . . . .. . 66
Higgledy-piggledy . . . . 69
Belinda Blonde .. . . .... 70
Tommy's Dream; or, The Geography Demon . ... .71
Polly's Year .. ................. 74
What the Robins sing in the Morning ... . 75

The Eve of the Glorious Fourth .. . . 75
The Dandy Cat . . . ... . 78
A Party . . . .. . .. 80
Jumbo Jee . . . . .. 81
An Indian Ballad . . . . .. 82
The Egg ............ ........ 84
Would n't. ...... .. . .. 85
Will-o'-the-wisp.. . . . . ... 86
Nonsense Verses . . . ... 87
An Old Rat's Tale . .. .. .. ... 88
To the Little Girl who wriggles ..... . 89
The Forty little Ducklings . . 90 "
The Mouse ..................... 92
A .Valentine . . . . . 93
Jamie in the Garden . . . 94
Somebody's Boy (not mine) . . . 95
Bogy .. .. . . .. . 96
The Mermaidens . .. . 97
The Phrisky Phrog . .. .. .. 98
The Ambitious Chicken . . 100
The Boy and the Brook . . .. 102
The Shark . . . .. . 103
The Easter Hen .. . . .. 105
Pump and Planet . . . . 106
The Postman . . . . .. 108
Hopsy Upsy . . . . . 109
Little Black Monkey . . . 110
Jippy and Jimmy. . . . ... ... 112
Master Jack's Song . . .. ... .. 113
Mother Rosebush . ... .. . 115
The Five Little Princesses . . .. .. 116
-The Hornet and the Bee .... ...... ...... 117
The Three Little Chickens who went out to Tea .. 119
A Legend of Lake Okeefinokee . .. 122
Grandpapa's Valentine . . . 124
Alibazan . . . . 125
The Three Fishers . . . ..... 127


Peepsy . . . .
May Song . . . .
Two Little Valentines . . . .
A Howl about an Owl . . . .
Our Celebration . . .
The Song of the Corn-popper .. . .
What Bobby said . . . .
Master Jack's Views . . . .
Emily Jane ...................
Song of the Mother whose Children are Fond of Drawing .
The Seven Little Tigers and the Aged Cook . .
Agamemnon . . . . .
The Wedding . . . . .
Swing Song . . . .
The Little Cossack . . . .
What a Very Rude Little Bird said to Johnny this Morning
The Monkeys and the Crocodile . . .
Painted Ladies . . . . .
Some Fishy Nonsense . . . .
Lady's Slipper . . . .
A Little Song to sing to a Little Maid in a Swing .
Betty in Blossom-time . .. ......
Betty's Song . . . .
A Nonsense Tragedy . . . .
From New York to Boston . . .
Sandy Godolphin . . . .
M y Clock . . . .
My Uncle Jehoshaphat . . . .
Rosy Posy . . . .
Sick-room Fancies.
I. My Wall Paper .............
II. My Japanese Fan . . .
Marjorie's Knitting . . . .
He and His Family . . . .
Easter-time . . . .
Easter . . . . .
Jacky Frost . . .


Subtraction . . . .
Grandfather Dear . . .
Gathering Apples . . . .
The Ballad of the Beach . . .
The Boots of a Household . . .
The Palace . . . .
Bunker Hill Monument .. . . .
M ay . . . . .
Gregory Griggs . . . .
A Nursery Tragedy . . . .
The Umbrella Brigade . . . .
The Princess in Saturn and the Red Man in Mars. .
Wiggle and Waggle . . . .
Gret Gran'f'ther . . . .
Day Dreams . . . .
The Battle . . . . .
The Strange Beast . . . .
A Garden Jingle ...............
The Baby goes to Boston . . .
The Flag in the Schoolroom . . .
Johnny Jump-up . . .. .
The Outlandishman . . . .
A Sleigh-ride . . . .
The Little Gnome . . . .
The Little Dutchess . . . .



IN my nursery as I sit,
To and fro the children flit:
Rosy Alice, eldest born,
Rosalind like summer morn,
Sturdy Hal, as brown as berry,
Little Julia, shy and merry,
John the King, who rules us all,
And the Baby sweet and small.

Flitting, flitting to and fro,
Light they come and light they go:
And their presence fair and young
Still I weave into my song.
Here rings out their merry laughter,
Here their speech comes tripping after:
Here their pranks, their sportive ways,
Flash along the lyric maze,
Till I hardly know, in fine,
What is theirs and what is mine:
Can but say, through wind and weather,
They and I have wrought together.



WHAT will the baby be, Mamma,
(With a kick and a crow, and a hushaby-low).
What will the baby be, Mamma,
When he grows up into a man?
Will he always kick, and always crow,
And flourish his arms and his legs about so,
And make up such horrible faces, you know,
As ugly as ever he can?

The baby he may be a soldier, my
With a fife and a drum, and a rum-
The baby he may be a soldier, my
When he grows up into a man.
He will draw up his regiment all in
a row,
And flourish his sword in the face
of the foe,
Who will hie them away on a tremulous toe,
As quickly as ever they can.


The baby he may be a sailor, my dear,
With a fore and an aft, and a tight little craft.
The baby he may be a sailor, my dear,
When he grows up into a man.
He will hoist his sails with a Yo heave-ho !"
And take in his reefs when it comes on to blow,
And shiver his timbers and so forth, you know,
On a genuine nautical plan.

The baby he may be a
doctor, my dear,
With a powder and pill,
and a nice little bill.
The baby he may be a
doctor, my dear,
When he grows up into
a man.

He will dose you with
rhubarb, and calomel
With draughts that are
black and with pills
that are blue;
And the chances will
be, when he's finish-
ed with you,
You'll be worse off than
when he began.

The baby he may be a lawyer, my dear,
With a bag and a fee, and a legal decree.
The baby he may be a lawyer, my dear,
When he grows up into a man.
But, oh! dear me, should I tell to you
The terrible things that a lawyer can do,
You would take to your heels when he came
into view,
And run from Beersheba to Dan.



LIKE a little crumpled roseleaf
It lies on my bosom now,
Like a tiny sunset cloudlet,
Like a flake of rose-tinted snow;
And the pretty, helpless fingers
Are never a moment at rest,
But ever are moving and straying
About on the mother's breast:
Trying to grasp the sunbeam
That streams through the window high;
Trying to catch the white garments
Of the angels hovering by.
And as she pats and caresses
The dear little lovely hand,
The mother's thoughts go forward
Toward the future's shadowy land.
And ever her anxious vision
Strives to pierce each coming year,
With a mother's height of rapture,
With a mother's depth of fear,
As she thinks, "In the years that are coming,
Be they many or be they few,
What work is the good God sending
For this little hand to do ?


Will it always be open in giving,
And always strong for the right ?
Will it always be ready for labor,
Yet always gentle and light ?
Will it wield the brush or the chisel
In the magical realms of Art?
Will it waken the loveliest music
To gladden the weary heart?
Will it smooth the sufferer's pillow,
Bring rest to his aching head?
Will it proffer the cup of cold water?
By it shall the hungry be fed ?
Oh! in the years that are coming,
Be they many or be they few,
What now is the good God sending
For this little hand to do ?"
Thus the mother's anxious vision
Strives to pierce each coming year,
With a mother's height of rapture,
With a mother's depth of fear.
Ah! whatever may be its fortunes,
Whatever in life its part,
This little wee hand will never loose
Its hold on the mother's heart.



MY own little beautiful Baby,
You're weeping most bitterly, dear!
There'd soon be a lake, if we treasured
Each sweet little silvery tear.

A lake ? Nay! an ocean of sorrow
Would murmur and sigh at your feet,
And you would be drowned in your tear-drops,
My own little Baby sweet.

But, darling, as in the wide ocean
The divers plunge boldly down,
And bring up the radiant pearl-drops
To set in some royal crown,

E'en so from the sea of your sorrow,
This dolorous "fountain of youth,"
Will come, ere a week be over,
A little wee pearly tooth.

And then the tears will all vanish,
Dried up by the sunshine of smiles;
And we '11 have back our own little Alice,
With her merriest frolics and wiles.

And whenever you laugh, my Baby,
Through all your life's happy years,
You '11 show us the radiant pearl-drop
That you brought from the ocean of tears.



HERE on our rock-away horse we go,
Johnny and I, to a land we know,-
Far away in the sunset gold,
A lovelier land than can be told.

Chorus. Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
Nod, nod, niddlety nod!
Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
And all the birds sing by-low!
Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

The gates are ivory set with pearls,
One for the boys, and one for the girls:
So shut your bonny two eyes of blue,
Or else they never will let you through.

Chorus. Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
Nod, nod, niddlety nod!
Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
And all the birds sing by-low!
Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

But what are the children all about?
There's never a laugh and never a shout.
Why, they all fell asleep, dear, long ago;
For how could they keep awake, you know?


Chorus. When all the flowers went niddlety nod,
Nod, nod, niddlety nod!
When all the flowers went niddlety nod,
And all the birds sang by-low!
Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

And each little brown or golden head
Is pillowed soft in a satin bed, -
A satin bed with sheets of silk,
As soft as down and as white as milk.

Chorus. And all the flowers go niddlety nod,
Nod, nod, niddlety nod!
And all the flowers go niddlety nod,
And all the birds sing by-low!
Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

The brook in its sleep goes babbling by,
And the fat little clouds are asleep in the sky;
And now little Johnny is sleeping too,
So open the gates and pass him through.

Chorus. Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
Nod, nod, niddlety nod!
Where all the flowers go niddlety nod,
And all the birds sing by-low!
Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.



VALENTINE, 0 Valentine,
Pretty little Love of mine;
Little Love whose yellow hair
Makes the daffodils despair;
Little Love whose shining eyes
Fill the stars with sad surprise:
Hither turn your ten wee toes,
Each a tiny shut-up rose,
End most fitting and complete
For the rosy-pinky feet;
Toddle, toddle here to me,
For I'm waiting, do you see ? -
Waiting for to call you mine,
Valentine, 0 Valentine!

Valentine, 0 Valentine,
I will dress you up so fine!
Here's a frock of tulip-leaves,
Trimmed with lace the spider weaves;
Here's a cap of larkspur blue,
Just precisely made for you;
Here's a mantle scarlet-dyed,
Once the tiger-lily's pride,
Spotted all with velvet black
Like the fire-beetle's back;
Lady-slippers on your feet,
Now behold you all complete!
Come and let me call you mine,
Valentine, 0 Valentine!


Valentine, 0 Valentine,
Now a wreath for you I'11 twine.
I will set you on a throne
Where the damask rose has blown,
Dropping all her velvet bloom,
Carpeting your leafy room:
Here while you shall sit in pride,
Butterflies all rainbow-pied,
Dandy beetles gold and green,
Creeping, flying, shall be seen,
Every bird that shakes his wings,
Every katydid that sings,
Wasp and bee with buzz and hum.
Hither, hither see them come,
Creeping all before your feet,
Rendering their homage meet.
But 't is I that call you mine,
Valentine, 0 Valentine!


THE rain came down from the sky.
And we asked it the reason why
It would ne'er stay away
On washing day,
To let our poor clothes get dry.

The rain came down on the ground,
With a clattering, pelting sound,
"Indeed, if I stayed
Till you called me," it said,
"I should not come all the year round!'"

THE little wee baby came tripping
All out of the fairy land,
With a nosegay of fairy flowers
Clasped close in each little wee hand;

The flower of baby beauty,
The flower of baby health,
And all the blossomy sweetness
That makes up a baby's wealth.

But still he kept sighing and sobbing,
Sighing and sobbing away,
Till I said, "Now what ails my Baby,
And why does he cry all day?"

And he answered, Oh! as I came tripping,
I spied a rose by the way:
And on it the loveliest dewdrop
I'd seen since I came away.


"But as I was stooping to sip it,
A wind came up from the south;
And it blew my little wee spoonie
Away from my little wee mouth."




"And what was your little
wee spoonie ?
And what does my Baby
mean ?"
"Oh! the little wee fairy
That was given me by the

"For whenever a baby leaves her,
The queen she grants him a boon, -
She fills both his hands with flowers,
And puts in his mouth a spoon.

"And some are made of the hazel,
And some are made of the horn;
And some are made of
the silver white,
For the good-luck
babes that are ,

" But what are they for,
my Baby?"
"Nay! that part I can-
not tell!
But send for the fairy
For he knows it all
right well.


gY) ~B ~34


"Oh! the little old fairy Spoonman,
He lives in the white, white moon.
Send a whisper up by'a moonbeam,
And he will be down here soon."

Then I whispered along a moonbeam
That silvered the grass so clear,
" Oh! little old fairy Spoonman,
Come down and comfort my dear!"

Then something came sliding, sliding
Down out of the white, white moon.
And something came gliding, gliding
Straight in at my window soon.

And there stood a little old fairy,
All bent and withered and black,
With a leather apron about him,
And a bundle of spoons at his back.

And first he looked at my baby,
And then he looked at me;
And then he looked at his apron,
But never a word spake he.

"Oh! Spoonman dear," said the baby,
The wind blew my spoon away.
So now will you give me another,
You little black Spoonman, pray?


"For I did not lose my spoonie,
Nor drop it carelessly;
But a wind came up to my poor little mouth,
And blew it away from me."

"Now well for you," said the Spoonman,
"Little Baby, if this be so.
For if you had carelessly lost your spoon,
Without it through life you'd go.

"And well for you, little Baby,
If you know your spoon again.
For but if you know the very same one,
Your asking will be in vain.

So say: was it made of the hazel,
Or was it made of the horn,
Or was it made of the silver white,
If a good-luck babe you were born?"

"Oh! it was nor horn nor hazel,
But all of the silver bright;
For a good-luck babe I was born indeed,
To be my Mammy's delight."

"Then take your spoon, little Baby,
With the fairies' blessing free,
For the south wind blew it around the world,
And blew it again to me."


With that he gave to my baby
The tiniest silver spoon.
Then out he slipped in the moonlight,
And we lost him from sight right soon.

Now some may think I am foolish,
And some may think I am mad;
But never once since that very night
Has my baby been cross or sad.

And I counsel all anxious mothers
Whose babies are crying in pain,
To send for the fairy Spoonman,
And get them their spoons again.


THE birdies may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the birdies' sake.
Kissing them, fanning them, soft and sweet,
E'en till the dark and the dawning meet.

The flowers may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the flowers' sake.
Rocking the buds on the rose-mother's breast,
Swinging the hyacinth-bells to rest.

The children may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the children's sake.
Singing so sweet in each little one's ear,
He thinks his mother's own song to hear.



GOOD-NIGHT, Sun! go to bed!
Take your crown from your shining head.
Now put on your gray night-cap,
And shut your eyes for a good long nap.

Good-night, Sky, bright and blue!
Not a wink of sleep for you.
You must watch us all the night,
With your twinkling eyes so bright.

Good-night, flowers! now shut up
Every swinging bell and cup.
Take your sleeping-draught of dew:
Pleasant dreams to all of you!

Good-night, birds, that sweetly sing!
Little head neathh little wing!
Every leaf upon the tree
Soft shall sing your lullaby.

Last to you, little child,
Sleep is coming soft and mild.
Now he shuts your blue eyes bright:
Little Baby dear, good-night!



BIRDs, birds, in the linden-tree,
Low, low let your music be!
Bees, bees, in the garden bloom,
Hushed, hushed be your drowsy hum!
Wind, wind, through the lattice waft
Still, still, thy breathing soft!
Flowers, sweet be the breath you shed:
Two little children are going to bed.

Eyes, eyes, neathh your curtains white,
Veiled, veiled be the sunny light!
Lips, lips, like the roses red,
Soft, soft be your sweet prayers said!
Feet, feet, that have danced all day,
Now, now must your dancing stay.
Low, low lay each golden head !
Two little children are going to bed.

A BEE came tumbling into my ear,
And what do you think he remarked, my dear?
He said that two tens make up a score,
And really and truly I knew that before.


I JUMPED on the back of a dragon-fly,
And flew and flew till I reached the sky.

I pulled down a cloud that was hiding the blue,
And all the wee stars came tumbling through.

They tumbled down and they tumbled round,
And turned into flowers as they touched the ground.

So come with me, little children, come,
And down in the meadow I'll pick you some.
Antrndinto floer aste ouhdte rud



LITTLE old baby, pretty old baby,
Screams and cries at his little old bath,
Pours on the head of his little old mother
All the full vials of baby wrath.

Little old baby, pretty old baby,
If you could see just how queer you look, -
Arms and legs in a knot together,
Face twisted up in a terrible crook, -

How you would straighten out every feature,
Masculine vanity all aflame!
Fie! what a noise from a little wee creature!
Did they abuse him! and was it a shame!

Little old baby, pretty old baby,
Curls himself over and goes to sleep.
Ah such is life, my little old baby,
Sleep and forget it, or wake and weep!


HOPPETY hoppety ho!
Where shall the baby go ?
Over dale and down,
To Limerick town,
And there shall the baby go.


Hoppety hoppety ho !
How shall the baby go ?
In a coach-and-seven,
With grooms eleven,
And so shall the baby go.

Boppety hoppety ho!
When shall the baby go ?
In the afternoon,
By the light of the moon,
And then shall the baby go.

Hoppety hoppety ho!
Why shall the baby go ?
To dance a new jig,
And to buy a new wig,
And that's why the baby shall go.


THE bumblebee, the bumblebee,
He flew to the top of the tulip-tree.
He flew to the top, but he could not stop,
For he had to get home to his early tea.

The bumblebee, the bumblebee,
He flew away from the tulip-tree;
But he made a mistake, and flew into the lake,
And he never got home to his early tea.



THE owl and the eel and the warming-pan,
They went to call on the soap-fat man.
The soap-fat man he was not within:
He 'd gone for a ride on his rolling-pin.
So they all came back by the way of the town,
And turned the meeting-house upside down.

B~B~" LJi~p~i~)~~~.~



"Hi!I" said the baby.
"Ho!" said the baby.
"Ha!" said the baby,
"I won't go to sleep!
Naughty old mother,
You make such a pother,
Just for to bother
You, awake I will keep.

"Dance !" said the baby.
"Prance! said the baby.
"Perchance," said the baby,
"You think I'm a goose.
Vainly you're dreaming
Of rest, and your scheming
To silence my screaming
is all of no use.

"Sing!" said the baby.
"Ring!" said the baby.
Bring," said the baby,
"My rattles and toys.
Still I will weep, oh!
Awake I will keep, oh!
Won't go to sleep, oh!
Will make a noise!

"Walk!" said the baby.
"Talk!" said the baby.
"I'll balk," said the baby,
"Your efforts, one and all.


Still I'11 be scorning,
When, towards the morning,
Without any warning
Asleep I will fall."


LITTLE yellow Sunbeam,
Waking up one day,
Down into the garden
Took her shining way;
Merrily went dancing
Down the morning air,
Shaking out the sparkles
From her golden hair.

Little yellow Sunbeam
Twinkled all about,
Down among the green leaves
Flitting in and out.
Waking up the daisies
From their morning doze,
Ringing up the lily-bells,
Knocking up the rose.

Little yellow Sunbeam,
Climbing up the wall,
On the baby's window
Happened for to fall.
In the little chamber
As she took a peep,
There she saw the Lovely One
Lying fast asleep.


Little yellow Sunbeam
Tripped into the room,
Sweeping out the darkness
With her golden broom.
All the little shadows,
Glimmering and gray,
Gathered up their dusky skirts,
Softly slid away.

Little yellow Sunbeam,
Flitting to the bed,
Merrily went dancing
Round the baby's head.
Suddenly there flashed out,
To her great surprise,
Other little sunbeams
From the baby's eyes.

Little yellow Sunbeam
Said, How can this be?
Whence these little sparklers
So unlike to me?
Scarce I think they can be
Sunbeams real and true,
For we all are yellow;
These are lovely blue."

Little yellow Sunbeam
Flew back to the sky.
Running to her father,
She began to cry:
" Father, you must vanish!
Run and hide your head!
There's a brighter sun than you
In the baby's bed."



HERE are the baby's bonny blue eyes.
What shall we give her to see ?
A calico doll and a parrotty poll,
As funny as funny can be.

Here are the baby's little pink ears.
What shall we give her to hear?
A bell that will ring, and a bird that will sing,
And a brook that goes tinkling clear.

Here is the baby's little wee nose.
What shall we give her to smell ?
A hyacinth blue and a violet too,
And roses and lilies as well.

Here is the baby's pretty red mouth.
What shall we give her to eat?
A sugary heart and a raspberry tart,
And everything else that is sweet.

And here are the baby's little fat hands.
What shall we give her to hold?
A sunbeam? That's right! and a rainbow bright,
And plenty of silver and gold.



Present arms! There they are,
Both stretched out to me.
Strong and sturdy, smooth and white,
Fair as arms may be.

Ground arms! on the floor,
Picking up his toys:
Breaking all within his reach,
Busiest of boys.

Bight wheel! off his cart,
Leu wheel too is gone.
Horsey's head is broken off,
Horsey's tail is torn.

Quick step, forward march!
Crying, too, he comes.
Had a battle with the cat.
Scratched off bofe my fums !"

Shoulder arms Here at last,
Round my neck they close.
Poor little soldier boy
Off to quarters goes.




FLY away, fly away, Birdie oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a feather and bring him a song,
And sing to him sweetly all the day long.

Hoppety, kickety, Grasshopper oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a thistle and bring him a thorn,
Hop over hIs head and Ihen be gone.


Howlibus, growlibus, Doggibus oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a snarl and bring him a snap,
And bring him a posy to put in his cap.

Twinkily, winkily, Firefly oh!
Bring something home to my Baby Bo!
Bring him a moonbeam and bring him a star,
Then twinkily, winkily, fly away far.


EIGHT fingers,
Ten toes,
Two eyes,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the rose,
"Oh! what a pity
I've only one nose!"

Ten teeth
In even rows,
Three dimples,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the snuff,
"Deary me!
One nose is enough."



LITTLE John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,
And a blithe little man was he.
And he won the heart of a pretty mermaid
Who lived in the deep blue sea.
And every evening she used to sit
And sing on the rocks by the sea,
"Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejoln,
Won't you come out to me?"


Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,
And he opened his little door.
And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped,
Until he came down to the shore.
And there on the rocks sat the little mermaid,
And still she was singing so free,
"Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won't you come out to me?"

Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,
And the mermaid, she made one too,
And she said, Oh! I never saw any one half
So perfectly sweet as you!
In my lovely home neathh the ocean foam,
How happy we both might be!
Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won't you come down with me?"

Little John Bottlejohn said, Oh yes!
I '11 willingly go with you.
And J never shall quail at the sight of your tail,.
For perhaps I may grow one too."
So he took her hand, and he left the land,
And plunged in the foaming main.
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Never was seen again.



BRING her here, my little Alice,
Poor Jemima Brown!
Make the little cradle ready!
Softly lay her down!
Once she lived in ease and comfort,
Slept on couch of down;
Now upon the floor she's lying,
Poor Jemima Brown!

Once she was a lovely dolly,
Rosy-cheeked and fair,
With her eyes of brightest azure
And her golden hair;
Now, alas! no hair's remaining
On her poor old crown;
And the crown itself is broken,
Poor Jemima Brown!

Once her legs were smooth and comely,
And her nose was straight;
And that arm, now hanging lonely,
Had, methinks, a mate.


And she was as finely dressed as
Any doll in town.
Now she's old, forlorn, and ragged,
Poor Jemima Brown!

Yet be kind to her, my Alice;
'T is no fault of hers
If her wilful little mistress
Other dolls prefers.
Did she pull her pretty hair out?
Did she break her crown ?
Did she pull her arms and legs off,
Poor Jemima Brown?

Little hands that did the mischief,
You must do your best
Now to give the poor old dolly
Comfortable rest.
So we '11 make the cradle ready,
And we'll lay her down;
And we '11 ask Papa to mend her,
Poor Jemima Brown!



FAR down in the meadow the wheat grows green,
And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;
And this is the song that I hear them sing,
While cheery and loud their voices ring:
"'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
And it is -for Alice's supper, ho ho "



And the miller is rubbing his dusty white hands;
And these are the words of the miller's lay,
As he watches the millstones a-grinding away:
"'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
And it is for Alice's supper, hi! hi "
And it is for Alice's supper, hi!i hi i"


Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And Maggie is kneading the soft white dough,
And this is the song that she's singing to-day,
While merry and busy she's working away:
"'Tis the finest dough, by near or by far,
And it is for Alice's supper, ha! ha!"


And now to the nursery comes Nannie at last,
And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
'Tis a plate full of something all yellow and white,
And she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:
"'Tis the best bread-and-butter I ever did see!
And it is for Alice's supper, he! he!"



Flutter by,
Through the summer air;
Roses bloom,
Sweet perfume
Shedding everywhere;
Robins sing,
Bluebells ring
Greeting to my dear,
When her sweet
Tiny feet
Bring her toddling here.

Pitapat !
Little fat
Funny baby toes!
Do not stumble,
Or she '11 tumble
On her baby nose.
Closer cling,
Little thing,
To your mother's side,
Baby mine,
Fair and fine,
Mother's joy and pride.



BOBBILY Boo, the king so free,
He used to drink the Mango tea.
Mango tea and coffee, too,
He drank them both till his nose turned blue.

Wollypotump, the queen so high,
She used to eat the Gumbo pie.
Gumbo pie and Gumbo cake,
She ate them both till her teeth did break.

Bobbily Boo and Wollypotump,
Each called the other a greedy frump.
And when these terrible words were said,
They sat and cried till they both were dead.


BABY been in Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills.
Baby's been in Sleepyland
All the rainy morning.
From the cradle where she lay,
Up she jumped and flew away,
For Sleepyland is bright and gay
Every rainy morning.


What did you see in Sleepyland,
Baby littlest, Baby prettiest ?
What did you see in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Saw the sun that shone so twinkily,
Saw the grass that waved so crinkily,
Saw the brook that flowed so tinkily,
All the lovely morning.

What did you hear in Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills ?
What did you hear in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Heard the winds that wooed so wooingly,
Heard the doves that cooed so cooingly,
Heard the cows that mooed so mooingly,
All the lovely morning.

What did you do in Sleepyland,
Baby littlest, Baby prettiest?
What did you do in Sleepyland,
All the rainy morning?
Sang a song with a blue canary,
Danced a dance with a golden fairy,
Rode about on a cinnamon beary,
All the lovely morning.

Would I could go to Sleepyland,
Over the hills, over the hills;
Would I could go to Sleepyland,
Every rainy morning.
But to Sleepyland, as I have been told,
No one may go after three years old,
So poor old Mammy stays out in the cold,
Every rainy morning.




N ~L L D T hI( M -m5 Lo-F: Ti & Rg w gwf

~, %Q i~OP



I KNOW a little girl,
But I won't tell who!
Her hair is of the gold,
And her eyes are of the blue.
Her smile is of the sweet,
And her heart is of the true.
Such a pretty little girl!-
But I won't tell who.

I see her every day,
But I won't tell where!
It may be in the lane,
By the thorn-tree there.
It may be in the garden,
By the rose-beds fair.
Such a pretty little girl!-
But I won't tell where.

I'll marry her some day,
But I won't tell when!
The very smallest boys
Make the very d--.._. men.
When I'm as tall as father,
You may ask about it then.
Such a pretty little girl!-
But I won't tell when.



ONCE I saw a little boat, and a pretty, pretty boat,
When daybreak the hills was adorning,
And into it I jumped, and away I did float,
So very, very early in the morning.

Chorus. And every little wave had its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
And every little wave had its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.

All the fishes were asleep in their caves cool and deep,
When the ripple round my keel flashed a warning.
Said the minnow to the skate, We must certainly be late,
Though I thought 'twas very early in the morning."

Chorus. For every little wave '-as its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
For every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.

The lobster darkly green soon appeared upon the scene,
And pearly drops his claws were adorning.
Quoth he, May I be boiled, if I'll have my slumber spoiled,
So very, very early in the morning!"

Chorus. For every little wave has its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on,
For every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.


Said the sturgeon to the eel, "Just imagine how I feel,
Thus roused without a syllable of warning.
People ought to let us know when a-sailing they would go,
So very, very early in the morning."

Chorus. When every little wave has its nightcap on,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap on.
When every little wave has its nightcap on,
So very, very early in the morning.

Just then up jumped the sun, and the fishes every one
For their laziness at once fell a-mourning.
But I stayed to hear no more, for my boat had reached the shore,
So very, very early in the morning.

Chorus. And every little wave took its nightcap off,
Its nightcap, white cap, nightcap off.
And every little wave took its nightcap off,
And courtesied to the sun in the morning.


Is it true, my mother?
Can it really be,
That the little fairies
Every day you see ?
Oh! the little fairies,
Wonderful and wise,
Have you really seen them
With your own two eyes?


Tell me where their home is,
Dearest mother mine.
Is it in the garden
'Neath the clustering vine ?
Is it in the meadow,
'Mid the grasses tall ?
Is it by the brookside,
Sweetest place of all ?

Deep within the woodland,
Shall I find them then, -
Pretty little maidens,
Pretty little men;
Curled among the roseleaves,
Stretched along the fern,
Where no wind can shake them,
And no sunbeams burn?

Does the little queen live
In a great red rose,
Twenty elves to fan her
When to sleep she goes;
Coverlet of lilies
Sprinkled o'er with pearls,
Golden stars a-twinkling
In her golden curls?

Do they paint the flowers ?
Do they teach the birds
All their lovely music,
With its strange, sweet words?
Oh! but tell me, mother!
Is it really true ?
And when next you seek them,
Will you take me too ?


True it is, my darling,
True as true. can be,
That the little fairies
Every day I see,
Not within the meadow,
Not in woodland gloom,
But in brightest sunshine,
In this very room.

Singing like the robin,
Chirping like the wren,
Pretty little maidens,
Pretty little men;
Leaning o'er my shoulder,
Swinging on my chair,
Oh the little fairies,
I see them everywhere.

Peeping at the window,
Peeping at the door,
If I bid them scamper,
Peeping all the more.
Little sweetest voices
Laughing merrily,
Oh! the little fairies,
They'll never let me be.

Tugging at my apron,
Twitching at my gown,
Climbing up into my lap,
Rumble-tumbling down.
Naughty little blue eyes,
Full of impish glee,
Oh! the little fairies,
They'll never let me be


All are kings and queens, dear,
Every smallest one;
And on mother's knee here
Is their regal throne.
Look into the glass, dear!
One of them you'll see.
Oh! the little fairies,
God bless them all for me!


OH! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She's travelling over the sea:
She's bringing a beautiful cuttlefish,
To play with my baby and me.

Oh! his head is three miles long, my dear,
His tail is three miles short.
And when he goes out he wriggles his snout,
In a way that no cuttlefish ought.

Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She rides on a sea-green whale.
He takes her a mile, with an elegant smile,
At every flip of his tail.

He can snuffle and snore like a Highlandman,
And swear like a Portugee;
He can amble and prance like a peer of France,
And lie like a heathen Chinee.

....----- _~---l= -_ ... -.- .4--/ / 4----- ---




Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She dresses in wonderful taste.
The sea-serpent coils, all painted in oils,
Around her bee-yu-tiful waist.

Oh! her gown is made of the green sea-kale;
And though she knows nothing of feet,
She can manage her train, with an air of disdain,
In a way that is perfectly sweet.

Oh! the Queen of the Orkney Islands,
She's travelling over the main.
So we '11 hire a hack, and we '11 take her straight back
To her beautif-l Islands again.


TODDLE, toddle, waddle, waddle,
On her little pinky toes.
Stumble, stumble, pitch and tumble,
That's the way the baby goes.

Prattle, prattle, rattle, rattle,
Little shouts and little shrieks,
Tears, with laughter coming after,
That's the way the baby speaks.

Playing, toying, still enjoying
Every sweet that Nature gives.
Smiling, weeping, waking, sleeping,
That's the way the baby lives.



[To be read to little boys and girls who quarrel with each other.]

"Ono! Oho!" said the pot to the kettle,
"You're dirty and ugly and black!
Sure no one would think you were made of metal,
Except when you're given a crack."

"Not so! not so!" kettle said to the pot.
"'T is your own dirty image you see.
For I am so clear, without blemish or blot,
That your blackness is mirrored in me."



OH, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Emperor take his tea?
He takes it with melons, he takes it with milk,
He takes it with syrup and sassafras silk.
He takes it without, he takes it within.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!

Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Cardinal take his tea?
He takes it in Latin, he takes it in Greek,
He takes it just seventy times in the week.
He takes it so strong that it makes him grin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!

Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the Admiral take his tea?
He takes it with splices, he takes it with spars,
He takes it with jokers and jolly jack tars.
And he stirs it round with a dolphin's fin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!

Oh, Pillykin Willykin Winky Wee!
How does the President take his tea?
He takes it in bed, he takes it in school,
He takes it in Congress against the rule.
He takes it with brandy, and thinks it no sin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!



Sat by the

Sat by the

SKINNY Mrs. Snipkin,
With her little pipkin,
fireside a-warming of her toes.
Fat Mrs. Wobblechin,
With her little doublechin,
window a-cooling of her nose.

Says this one to that one,
"Oh you silly fat one,
Will you shut the window down? You're freezing me to death!"
Says that one to t'other one,
Good gracious, how you bother one!
There is n't air enough for me to draw my precious breath!"


Skinny Mrs. Snipkin,
Took her little pipkin,
Threw it straight across the room as hard as she could throw;
Hit Mrs. Wobblechin
On her little doublechin,
And out of the window a-tumble she did go.



OH, what shall we do for the Lovely
This rainy, rainy day ?
Oh! how shall we make the baby laugh,
When everything's dull and gray ?

The sun has gone on a picnic,
The moon has gone to bed,
The tiresome sky does nothing but cry,
As if its best friend were dead.

Come hither, come hither, my Sunbeams!
Come one, and two, and three;
And now in a trice we'll have the room
As sunny as sunny can be.

Come, dimpling, dimpling Dumpling,
Come, Rosy, Posy Rose,
Come, little boy Billy a-toddling round
On little fat tottering toes.

Now twinkle, now twinkle, my Sunbeams!
Now twinkle and laugh and dance,
And brush me the gloom straight out of the room,
Nor leave it the ghost of a chance.

Aha! see the Lovely smile now!
Aha! see her jump and crow!
As round and round, with laugh and dance,
My three merry Sunbeams go.


And who cares now for the raindrops?
Who cares for the gloomy day,
When each little heart is doing its part
To make us all glad and gay ?

You moon, you may stay in bed now;
You sun, you may wander and roam;
And cry away, cry, you tiresome sky!
We've plenty of sunshine at home!


THEY'VE took away the ball,
Oh dear!
And I'11 never get it back,
I fear.
And now they've gone away,
And left me for to stay
All alone the livelong day,
In here.

It was my ball, anyhow,
Not his:
For he never had a ball
Like this.
Such a coward you'll not see,
E'en if you should live to be
Old as Deuteronomy,
As he is.


I'm sure I meant no harm,
None at all!
I just held out my hand
For the ball,
And--somehow--it hit his head.
Then his nose it went and bled,
And as if I'd killed him dead
He did bawl.

Mother said I was a naughty
Little wretch.
And Aunt Jane said the police
She would fetch.
And that nurse, who's always glad
Of a chance to make me mad,
Said, indeed she never had
Seen sech!"

No! I never, never will
Be good!
I'll go and be a babe
In the wood.
I'11 run away to sea,
And a pirate I will be.
Then they '11 never dare call me
Rough and rude.

How hungry I am getting!
Let me see!
I wonder what they're going to have
For tea.
Of course there will be jam-
And-oh! that potted ham!
How unfortunate I am!
Dear me!


Oh! it's growing very dark
In here.
And that shadow in the corner
Looks so queer!
Won't they bring me any light ?
Must I stay in here all night?
I shall surely die of fright.
Oh dear!

Mother, darling, will you never
Come back?
Oh I'm sorry that I hit him
Such a crack!
Hark! yes, 'tis her voice I hear!
Now good-by to every fear!
For she's calling me her dear
Little Jack!


How many toes has the tootsey foot ?
One, two, three, four, five.
Shut them all up in the little red sock,
Snugger than bees in a hive.

How many fingers has little wee hand?
Four, and a little wee thumb.
Shut them up under the bedclothes tight,
For fear that Jack Frost should come.

How many eyes has the Baby Bo ?
Two, so shining and bright.
Shut them up under the little white lids,
And kiss them a loving good-night.



SWEET! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the morning,
Sending up to heaven's blue our happy waking song;
Daily, gayly, our tiny home adorning,
Working all so merrily the whole day long.

Sweet! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the noontide;
Half the day is over now, half our work is done;
Neatly, featly, the moss and twigs are blended,
Feather, flower, leaf, and stems, all added one by one.

Sweet! sweet! sweet! sweet!
Sing we in the evening;
Happy day is past, past, happy night begun;
Wooing, cooing, we nestle 'mid the branches,
Sinking down to rest with the sinking of the sun.

Soft, soft, soft, soft,
Sleep we through the still night;
Tiny head neathh tiny wing comfortably curled,
Singing, springing, with the breath of morning,
Waking up once more to all the wonder of the world.



[AIR: There was a maid in my
THERE was a man in Mani-
The only man that ever was
His name was Nicholas Jones
And he loved a maid in Miri-

Sing ha! ha! ha! for Mani-
Sing he! he! he! for Miri-
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geo-
And that's the lesson for
you and me.


There was a man in New Mex-
He lost his grandmother out in
the snow;
But his heart was light, and
his ways were free,
So he bought him another in
Santa F6.

Sing ho! ho! ho! for New Mex-
Sing he! he! he! for Santa F6! |
Sing hi! hi! hi for Geographi!
And that's the lesson for you
and me.

SThere was a man in Aus-

He sat and wept on the

A new-mown hay;
He jumped on the tail of

a kangaroo,

And rode till he came to




Chorus. Sing hey! hey! hey! for Austra-li-a!
Sing hoo! hoo! hoo! for Kalamazoo!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson for me and you.

There was a man in Jiggerajum,
He went to sea in a kettle-drum;
He sailed away to the Salisbury Shore,
And I never set eyes on that man any more.

Chorus. Sing hum! hum! hum! for Jiggerajum!
Sing haw! haw! haw! for the Salisbury Shore!
Sing hi! hi! hi! for Geographi!
And that's the lesson the whole world o'er.



HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY went to school,
Looking so nice and neat!
Clean little mittens on clean little hands,
Clean little shoes on his feet.
Jacket and trousers all nicely brushed,
Collar and cuffs like snow.
" See that you come home as neat to-night,
Higgledy-piggledy oh!"

Higgledy-piggledy came from school,
In such a woful plight,
All the people he met on the road
Ran screaming away with fright.
One shoe gone for ever and aye,
T'other one stiff with mud,
Dirt-spattered jacket half torn from his back,
Mittens both lost in the wood.

Higgledy-piggledy stayed in bed
All a long, pleasant day,
While his father fished for his other boot
In the roadside mud and clay.
All day long his mother must mend,
Wash and iron and sew,
Befo e she can make him fit to be seen,
Higgledy-piggledy oh!



BELINDA BLONDE was a beautiful doll,
With rosy-red cheeks and a flaxen poll.
Her lips were red, and her eyes were blue,
But to say she was happy would not be true;
For she pined for love of the great big Jack
Who lived in the Box so grim and black.

She never had looked on the Jack his face;
But she fancied it shining with beauty and grace,
And all the day long she would murmur and pout,
Because Jack-in-the-box would never come out.

" Oh, .beautiful, beautiful Jack-in-the-box,
Undo your bolts and undo your locks!
The cupboard is shut, and there's no one about:
Oh Jack-in-the-box, jump out! jump out! "

But alas! alas! for Belinda Blonde,
And alas! alas! for her dreamings fond.
There soon was an end to all her doubt,
For Jack-in-the-box really did jump out, -

Out with a crash and out with a spring,
Half black and half scarlet, a horrible thing.
Out with a yell and a shriek and a shout,
His great goggle-eyes glaring wildly about.


"And what did Belinda do?" you say.
Alas before she could get out of the way,
The monster struck her full on the head,
And with pain and with terror she fell down dead.

Now all you dolls, both little and big,
With china crown and with curling wig,
Before you give way to affection fond,
Remember the fate of Belinda Blonde !
And unless you're fond of terrible knocks,
Don't set your heart on a Jack-in-the-box!


I HATE my geography lesson!
It's nothing but nonsense and names.
To bother me so every Thursday,
I think it's the greatest of shames.
The brooklets flow into the rivers,
The rivers flow into the sea;
For my part, I hope they enjoy it!
But what does it matter to me?
Of late even more I've disliked it,
More thoroughly odious it seems,
Ever since that sad night of last winter,
When I had that most frightful of dreams.
I'd studied two hours that evening,
On mountains and rivers and lakes;


When I'd promised to go down to Grandpa's,
For one of Aunt Susan's plum-cakes.
She sent me one, though, and I ate it-
On the stairs, before going to bed;
And those stupid old mountains and rivers
Were dancing all night through my head.
I dreamed that a horrible monster
Came suddenly into my room,-
A frightful Geography Demon,
Enveloped in darkness and gloom.
His body and head like a mountain,
A volcano on top for hat;
His arms and his legs were like rivers,
With a brook round his neck for cravat.
He laid on my trembling shoulder
His fingers cold, clammy, and long;
And rolling his red eyes upon me,
He roared out this horrible song:--

"Come come! rise and come
Away to the banks of the Muskingum!
It rolls o'er the plains of Timbuctoo,
With the Peak of Teneriffe just in view;
And the cataracts leap in the pale moonshine,
As they dance o'er the cliffs of Brandywine.

"Flee! flee! rise and flee
Away to the banks of the Tombigbee!
We 'II pass by Alaska's flowery strand,
Where the emerald towers of Pekin stand;
We'll pass it by, and we'll rest awhile
On Michillimackinack's tropic isle;
While the apes of Barbary frisk around,
And the parrots crow with a lovely sound.


"Hie! hie! rise and hie
Away to the banks of the Yang-tse-kai!
There the giant mountains of Oshkosh stand,
And the icebergs gleam through the shifting sand;
While the elephant sits in the palm-tree high,
And the cannibal feasts upon bad-boy pie.

"Go! go! rise and go
Away to the banks of the Hoang-ho!
There the Chickasaw sachem is making his tea,
And the kettle boils and waits for thee.
I'll smite thee, ho! and I'll lay thee low,
On the beautiful banks of the Hoang-ho!"

These terrible words were still sounding
Like trumpets and drums through my head,
When the monster clutched tighter my shoulder,
And dragged me half out of the bed.
In terror I clung to the bedpost,
But the faithless bedpost broke;
I screamed out aloud in my anguish,
And suddenly -well -I awoke!!-
No monster-no music--all silence,
Save mother's soft accents so mild:
"No, Father, you need not be anxious!
I know now what troubles the child.
I'll give him a little hot ginger
As soon as he's fairly awake;
His frightful Geography Demon
Is just his Aunt Susan's plum-cake!"



COME sit on my knee and tell me here,
Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear,
What do you mean to do this year?

I mean to be good the whole year long,
And never do anything careless or wrong;
I mean to learn all my lessons right,
And do my sums, if I sit up all night.
I mean to keep all my frocks so clean,
Nurse never will say I'm "not fit to be seen."
I mean not to break even one of my toys,
And I never, oh! never will make any noise.
In short, Uncle Ned, as you'll very soon see,
The best little girl in the world I shall be.

Come sit on my knee and let me hear,
Polly, my dear, Polly, my dear,
What you have done in the course of the year.
Oh dear! Uncle Ned, oh dear! and oh dear!
I'm afraid it has not been a very good year.
For somehow my sums would come out wrong,
And somehow my frocks wouldn't stay clean long.
And somehow I've often been dreadfully cross,
And somehow I broke my new rocking-horse.
And somehow Nurse says I have made such a noise,
I might just as well have been one of the boys.
In short, Uncle Ned, I very much fear
You must wait for my goodness another year.



WAKE wake! children, wake !
Here we're singing for your sake,
Chirrup! chirrup! chirrup! chee!
Sweet a song as sweet can be.

Rise! rise! children, rise !
Shake the poppies from your eyes.
Sweet! sweet! chirrup! tweet!
Morning blossoms at your feet.

Song and sweetness, dawn and dew,
All are waiting now for you.
Wake! wake! children, wake!
Here we're singing for your sake.


ROBBY and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They vowed, every one, they'd have glorious fun
On the glorious Fourth of July.
They spent all their money on trumpets and drums,
On fish-horns and pistols and guns,
On elephant crackers (which they pronounced "whackers"),
On toffee, torpedoes, and buns.


Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They said with delight, We will sit up all night,
To make ready for Fourth of July.
We will beat on our drums till the constable comes,
And then we will hasten away.
We will toot the gay horn till the coming of morn,
The morn of the glorious day."

Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They made such a noise that the other small boys
With envy were ready to die.
They made such a din that the neighbors within
With fury were ready to choke,
With rage at the drumming and strumming and humming,
The pistols and powder and smoke.

Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They thought wouldd be best for a moment to rest,
And their toffee and buns for to try.
On the steps of a house they began to carouse,
And they shouted and shrieked in their glee,
As they fired their guns and devoured their buns
In a manner both frolic and free.


Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
Ah! nothing they saw of the opening door,
Nothing knew of the peril so nigh.
A horrid great man with a watering-can
Was standing behind them so still,
And suddenly down on each curly crown
Its contents he poured with a will.

Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
With squeaks and with squeals did they take to their heels,
While their enemy after did fly.
And he beat them with sticks, and he kicked them with kicks,
And he thumped on their heads with the can,
And half-way up the street he pursued them so fleet,
Still thumping their heads as he ran.

Robby and Bobby and Billy and Ned,
Philip and Peter and Guy,
They said, every one, that it was n't much' fun
Getting ready for Fourth of July.
They crept to their beds and they laid down their heads,
And they slept till the sun was on high,
And when they awaked, so sorely they ached,
That they just could do nothing but cry.



To Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
His mistress remarked one day,
I 'm tormented, my cat, both by mouse and by rat:
Come rid me of them, I pray!

"For though you're a cat of renowned descent,
And your kittenhood's long been gone,
Yet never a trace of the blood of your race
In battle or siege you've shown. "

Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Tabby de Sly
Arose from his downy bed.
He washed himself o'er, from his knightly paw
To the top of his knightly head.

And he curled his whiskers, and combed his hair,
And put on his perfumed gloves;
And his sword he girt on, which had never been drawn
Save to dazzle the eyes of his loves.

And when he had cast one admiring glance
On the looking-glass tall and fair,
To the pantry he passed; but he stood aghast,
For lo! the pantry was bare!

The pickles, the cookies, the pies were gone!
And naught remained on the shelf
Save the bone of a ham, which lay cold and calm,
The ghost of its former self.


Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin stood sore dismayed,
And he looked for the mice and rats.
But they, every one, had been long since gone
Far, far from the reach of cats.

For while he was donning his satin pelisse,
And his ribbons and laces gay,
They had finished their feast, without hurry the least,
And had tranquilly trotted away.

The mistress of Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly,
A woman full stern was she.
She came to the door, and she rated him sore
When the state of the case she did see.

She grasped him, spite of his knightly blood,
By the tip of his knightly tail;
His adornments she stripped, and his body she dipped
Three times in the water-pail.

She plunged him thrice neathh the icy flood,
Then turned him out-doors to dry;
And terror and cold on his feelings so told,
That he really was like to die.

And now in this world 't would be hard to find,
Although you looked low and high,
A cat who cares less for the beauties of dress
Than Sir Green-eyes Grimalkin de Sly.


ON Willy's birthday, as you see,
These little boys have come to tea.
But, oh! how very sad to tell!
They have not been behaving well.
For ere they took a single bite,
They all began to scold and fight.

The little boy whose name was Ned,
He wanted jelly on his bread;
The little boy whose name was Sam,
He vowed he would have damson jam;
The little boy whose name was Phil
Said, "I '11 have honey! Yes I WILL!!"

The little boy whose name was Paul,
While they were quarrelling, ate it all.



THERE were some kings, in number three,
Who built the tower of Jumbo Jee.
They built it up to a monstrous height,
At eleven o'clock on a Thursday night.

They built it up for forty miles,
With mutual bows and pleasing smiles;
And then they sat on the edge to rest,
And partook of lunch with a cheerful zest.

And first they ate of the porkly pie,
And wondered why they had built so high;
And next they drank of the ginger wine,
Which gave their noses a regal shine.

They drank to the health of Jumbo Jee,
Until they could neither hear nor see.
They drank to the health of Jumbo Land,
Until they could neither walk nor stand.

They drank to the health of Jumbo Tower
Until they really could drink no more;
And then they sank in a blissful swoon,
And flung their crowns at the rising moon.



Howly old, growly old Indian he,
Lived on the hills of the Mungo-Paws,
With all his pappooses and all his squaws.
There was Wah-wah-bocky, the Blue-nosed Goose,
And Ching-gach-gocky, the Capering Moose:
There was Peeksy Wiggin, and Squaw-pan too,
But the fairest of all was Michiky Moo.
Michiky Moo, the Savory Tart,
Pride of Whittlesey Whanko's heart;
Michiky Moo, the Cherokee Pie,
Apple of Whittlesey Whanko's eye.
Whittlesey Whanko loved her so
That the other squaws did with envy glow;
And each said to the other, "Now, what shall we do
To spoil the beauty of Michiky Moo?"
"We'll lure her away to the mountain top,
And there her head we will neatly chop."
" We'll wile her away to the forest's heart,
And shoot her down with a poisoned dart."
"We'll lead her away to the river-side,
And there she shall be the Manito's bride."
" Oh! one of these things we will surely do,
And we'll spoil the beauty of Michiky Moo."
"Michiky Moo, thou Cherokee Pie,
Away with me to the mountain high!"
" Nay, my sister, I will not roam.
I'm safer and happier here at home."
"Michiky Moo, thou Savory Tart,
Away with me to the forest's heart !"


"Nay my sister, I will not go;
I fear the dart of some hidden foe."
"Michiky Moo, old Whittlesey's pride,
Away with me to the river-side "
"Nay! my sister, for fear I fall!
And wouldst thou come if thou heardst me call ?"
"Now choose thee, choose thee thy way of death!
For soon thou shalt draw thy latest breath!
We all have sworn that this day we'll see
The last, proud Michiky Moo, of thee!"
Whittlesey Whanko, hidden near,
Each and all of these words did hear.
He summoned his braves, all painted for war,
And gave them in charge each guilty squaw:
"Take Wah-wah-bocky, the Blue-nosed Goose;
Take Ching-gach-gocky, the Capering Moose;
Take Peeksy Wiggin, and Squaw-pan too,
And leave me alone with my Michiky Moo.
This one away to the mountain top,
And there her head ye shall neatly chop;
This one away to the forest's heart,
And shoot her down with a poisoned dart;
This one away to the river-side,
And there she shall be the Manito's bride;
Away with them all, the woodlands through!
For I'11 have no squaw save Michiky Moo."
Away went the braves, without question or pause,
And they soon put an end to the guilty squaws.
They pleasantly smiled when the deed was done,
Saying, Ping-ko-chanky oh is n't it fun !"
And then they all danced the Buffalo dance,
And capered about with ambiguous prance,
While they drank to the health of the lovers so true,
Bold Whittlesey Whanko and Michiky Moo.



OH! how shall I get it, how shall I get it,
A nice little new-laid egg ?
My grandmamma told me to run to the barn-yard,
And see if just one I could beg.

" Moolly-cow, Moolly-cow, down in the meadow,
Have you any eggs, I pray ? "
The Moolly-cow stares as if I were crazy,
And solemnly stalks away.

"Oh! Doggie, Doggie, perhaps you may have it,
That nice little egg for me."
But Doggie just wags his tail and capers,
And never an egg has he.

"'Now, Dobbin, Dobbin, I'm sure you must have one,
Hid down in your manger there."
But Dobbin lays back his ears and whinnies,
With Come and look, if you dare!"

"Piggywig, Piggywig, grunting and squealing,
Are you crying 'Fresh eggs for sale'?"
No! Piggy, you're very cold and unfeeling,
With that impudent quirk in your tail.

"You wise old Gobbler, you look so knowing,
I'm sure you can find me an egg.
You stupid old thing! just to say Gobble-gobble!'
And balance yourself on one leg."


Oh! how shall I get it, how shall I get it,-
That little white egg so small ?
I've asked every animal here in the barn-yard,
And they won't give me any at all.

But after I'd hunted until I was tired,
I found not one egg, but ten!
And you never could guess where they all were hidden,--
Right under our old speckled hen!


SHE would n't have on her naughty bib!
She would n't get into her naughty crib!
She would n't do this, and she would n't do that,
And she would put her foot in her Sunday hat.

She would n't look over her picture-book !
She would n't run out to help the cook!
She would n't be petted or coaxed or teased,
And she would do exactly whatever she pleased.

She would n't have naughty rice to eat!
She wouldn't be gentle and good and sweet!
She would n't give me one single kiss,
And pray what could we do with a girl like this ?

We tickled her up, and we tickled her down,
From her toddling toes to her curling crown.
And we kissed her and tossed her, until she was fain
To promise she would n't say "would n't" again.



" WILL-'-THE-WISP Will-o'-the-wisp!
Show me your lantern true!
Over the meadow and over the hill,
Gladly I'll follow you.
Never 1'll murmur nor ask to rest,
And ever I'll be your friend,
If you'll only give me the pot of gold
That lies at your journey's end."

Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp,
Lighted his lantern true;
Over the meadow and over the hill,
Away and away he flew.
And away and away went the poor little boy,
Trudging along so bold,
And thinking of naught but the journey's end,
And the wonderful pot of gold.

Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp,
Flew down to a lonely swamp;
He put out his lantern and vanished away
In the evening chill and damp.
And the poor little boy went shivering home,
Wet and tired and cold;
He had come, alas! to his journey's end,
But where was the pot of gold?



He lost his head,
And put a turnip on instead;
But then, ah me!
He could not see,
So he thought it was night, and he went to bed.

Ponsonby Perks,
He fought with Turks,
Performing many wonderful works;
He killed over forty,
High-minded and haughty,
And cut off their heads with smiles and smirks.

Winifred White,
She married a fright,
She called him her darling, her duck, and delight;
The back of his head
Was so lovely, she said,
It dazzled her soul and enraptured her sight.


Harriet Hutch,
Her conduct was such,
Her uncle remarked it would conquer the Dutch:
She boiled her new bonnet,
And breakfasted on it,
And rode to the moon on her grandmother's crutch.


HE was a rat, and she was a rat,
And down in one hole they did dwell.
And each was as black as your Sunday hat,
And they loved one another well.

He had a tail, and she had a tail;
Both long and curling and fine.
And each said, "My love's is the finest tail
In the world, excepting mine!"

He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,
And they both pronounced it good;
And both remarked it would greatly add
To the charms of their daily food.

So he ventured out and she ventured out;
And I saw them go with pain.
But what them befell I never can tell,
For they never came back again.



DON'T wriggle about any more, my dear 1
I'm sure all your joints must be sore, my dear!
It's wriggle and jiggle, it's twist and it's wiggle,
Like an eel on a shingly shore, my dear,
Like an eel on a shingly shore.

Oh! how do you think you would feel, my dear,
If you should turn into an eel, my dear?
With never an arm to protect you from harm,
And no sign of a toe or a heel, my dear,
No sign of a toe or a heel?

And what do you think you would do, my dear,
Far down in the water so blue, my dear,
Where the prawns and the shrimps, with their curls and their crimps,
Would turn up their noses at you, my dear,
Would turn up their noses at you ?

The crab he would give you a nip, my dear,
And the lobster would lend you a clip, my dear.
And perhaps if a shark should come by in the dark,
Down his throat you might happen to slip, my dear,
Down his throat you might happen to slip.

Then try to sit still on your chair, my dear
To your parents 't is no more than fair, my dear.
For we really don't feel like inviting an eel
Our board and our lodging to share, my dear,
Our board and our lodging to share.



,. I I
.. l"ll,,lll! ,t

'I -

[A story with a certain amount of truth in it.]

THE forty little ducklings who lived up at the farm,
They said unto each other, Oh! the day is very warm!"
They said unto each other, "Oh! the river's very cool!
The duck who did not seek it now would surely be a fool."

The forty little ducklings, they started down the road;
And waddle, waddle, waddle, was the gait at which they goed.
The same it is not grammar, you may change it if you choose, -
But one cannot stop for trifles when inspired by the Muse.

They waddled and they waddled and they waddled on and on.
Till one remarked, Oh! deary me, where is the river gone ?
We asked the Ancient Gander, and he said 't was very near.
He must have been deceiving us, or else himself, I fear."


They waddled and they waddled, till no further they could go:
Then down upon a mossy bank they sat them in a row.
They took their little handkerchiefs and wept a little weep,
And then they put away their heads, and then they went to sleep.

There came along a farmer, with a basket on his arm,
And all those little duckylings he took back to the farm.
He put them in their little beds, and wished them sweet repose,
And fastened mustard plasters on their little webby toes.

Next day these little ducklings, they were, very very ill.
Their mother sent for Doctor Quack, who gave them each a pill;
But soon as they recovered, the first thing that they did,
Was to peck the Ancient Gander, till he ran away and hid.



I'M only a poor little mouse, Ma'am.
I live in the wall of your house, Ma'am.
With a fragment of cheese,
And a very few peas,
I was having a little carouse, Ma'am.

No mischief at all I intend, Ma'am.
I hope you will act as my friend, Ma'am.
If my life you should take,
Many hearts it would break,
And the mischief would be without end, Ma'am.

My wife lives in there, in the crack, Ma'am,
She's waiting for me to come back, Ma'am.
She hoped I might find
A bit of a rind,
For the children their dinner do lack, Ma'am.

'T is hard living there in the wall, Ma'am,
For plaster and mortar will pall, Ma'am,
On the minds of the young,
And when specially hung--
Ry, upon their poor father they '11 fall, Ma'am.

I never was given to strife, Ma'am, -
(Don't look at that terrible knife, Ma'am!)
The noise overhead
That disturbs you in bed,
'T is the rats, I will venture my life, Ma'am.


In youth eyes I see mercy, I'm sure, Ma'am.
Oh, there 's no need to open the door, Ma'am.
I 'I slip through the crack,
And I'll never come back,
Oh! I'll never come back any more, Ma'am!


OH, little loveliest lady mine!
What shall I send for your valentine?
Summer and flowers are far away,
Gloomy old Winter is king to-day,
Buds will not blow, and sun will not shine;
What shall I do for a valentine ?

Prithee, Saint Valentine, tell me here,
Why do you come at this time o' year?
Plenty of days when lilies are white,
Plenty of days when sunbeams are bright;
But now, when everything's dark and drear,
Why do you come, Saint Valentine dear ?

I've searched the gardens all through and through,
For a bud to tell of my love so true;
But buds are asleep, and blossoms are dead,
And the snow beats down on my poor little head;
So, little loveliest lady mine,
Here is my heart for your valentine.



How is a little boy to know
About these berries all,
That ripen all the summer through,
From spring-time until fall ?

I must not eat them till they're ripe,
I know that very well;
But each kind ripens differently,
So how am I to tell?

Though strawberries and raspberries,
When ripe, are glowing red,
Red blackberries I must not touch,
Mamma has lately said.

And though no one of these is fit
To touch when it is green,
Ripe gooseberries, as green as grass,
At Grandpapa's I've seen.

And peas are green when they are ripe;
Some kinds of apples too.
But they 're not berries; neither are
These currants, it is true.

These currants, now! why, some are red,
And some are brilliant green.
"Don't eat unripe ones!" said Mamma.
But which ones did she mean?

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