Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The peaceful peasant
 The race
 The lazy elf and the magic...
 The prank of Poollaleg
 The Fairy Gold
 The fight for the mushroom
 The imp and the spell
 The imp and the churchwarden
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: A book of elfin rhymes
Title: A Book of elfin rhymes
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086964/00001
 Material Information
Title: A Book of elfin rhymes
Physical Description: 108 p. : ill. ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Norman
Moorepark, Carton ( Illustrator )
Gay and Bird ( Publisher )
Chandos Press ( Printer )
Publisher: Gay and Bird
Place of Publication: London (22 Bedford Street)
Manufacturer: Chandos Press
Publication Date: 1900
Subject: Elves -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Fairy tales -- 1900   ( rbgenr )
Children's poetry -- 1900
Bldn -- 1900
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Fairy tales   ( rbgenr )
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Norman : with 40 drawings in colour by Carton Moorepark.
General Note: Illustrated endpapers.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086964
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001603353
oclc - 23350269
notis - AHM7603

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Half Title
        Page 5
    Title Page
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The peaceful peasant
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    The race
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
    The lazy elf and the magic seedlings
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    The prank of Poollaleg
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    The Fairy Gold
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    The fight for the mushroom
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    The imp and the spell
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
    The imp and the churchwarden
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
    Back Matter
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Back Cover
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
Full Text


LONPON '1900*y


Said 1{osie, And is there an clfin-land?
zAre goblin stories true ? Did you ever see a fairy's zvand ?
Do the fairies talk to you ? Are they far away or near us ? When we're speaking can they hear us ? "
Said I, 'There is really a fairy-realm,
Not so very far away. Shall we sit in the shade of this great old elm
zAnd visit it for a day ? For we'll find its true location In the realm of Imagination."


Oh look at the Peasant so aged and gray, Who lived in a hut near the King's highway. He went forth to fish every good fishing-day, And his whiskers grew down to his toes.
A goblin who lived in the high river-bank
Loved to tease the old chap, for he thought him a crank;
He laughed at his figure so lean and so lank And the whiskers that grew to his toes.

" Booh! Funny old man with the lantern-face Are you going to catch red-herring or plaice? Oh! I should like to see you running a race, With your whiskers a-tripping your toes!"
With toadstools and moss he pelted his foe, Stuck thorns in his hair and scared the fish so That at last the old fellow said Too far you go !" While his whiskers he stroked with his toes.

Till a^plan of revenge on the elf he had found, Next day he repaired to a new fishing-ground ; Behind a rock waited he, making no sound,
And his whiskers were -where d'ye suppose ?
"Why, hung over the rock like a long creeping plant!
Soon the elf comes along with his light-hearted chant,
Tries to pass by the rock, but finds that he can't, For the whiskers entangle his toes,

Now the peasant's great hand from the rock stretches out
And the poor little elf gives a pitiful shout,
And makes desperate efforts to get himself out
From the whiskers that tangle his toes.
But the great hand has got him, and, spite of his squeals,
He is bottled along with a couple of eels, While a sly grin of pleasure the old fellow steals Down the whiskers that grow to his toes.

the race

the race .-m
Ho two lively little elves Eager to amuse themselves Seea tortoise one bestrides, The other on a rabbit rides ;
And he sits (oh ain't it funny ?)
Looking t'wards the tail of bunny.
Very soon the two fall out ;
And I'll tell you what about ;
The tortoise elf begins to jeer,
Says the other rides so queer.
" All a case of force of habit," Says the imp who rides the rabbit.

" Hi! suppose we try a raee, Making this the starting place." I agree !" says number one, "Quarter-mile then let us run,
And the prize a comb of honey."
" Right you are !" says he on bunny.
Off they go The rabbit bounds
In and out between the mounds,
O'er the hillocks like the wind,
While the tortoise far behind
Slowly after him comes plodding, Feet a-crawling, head a-nodding.

Alas, alack, the bunny's elf
Is too proud about himself;
For the rabbit nearssits hole,
Which of course it thinks the goal;
Down it shoots he like an arrow, Though the door is very narrow.
'G-ainst the roof the elf has struck
With a whack would kill a duck!
Stiff he falls outside the mound,
Never more to utter sound!
Ah! indeed I can't help crying When I see how still he's lying.

After long the tortoise strolls
Up among the rabbit holes,
And his rider grins with glee
On his fallen enemy.
(Elves are clever, playful, witty, But, I fear they show no pity).
Now this tale has reached its end
I the moral should append,
But, I fear it can't be done.
Why? Because it hasn't one.
G-oo-good-bye elf, who rode on bunny And died in debta comb of honey.


'Twas a lazy little elf Never worked unless he had to. One fine day 'tis very sad to Tell how he entrapped himself.
It was hot, and he was bid
Carry a puff-bag of seedlings
To a friend. "With many wheedlings
Coaxed to go, at last he did.

Pouf! The sun was very hot! (Have I said that once already?) Looked he round to find a shady, Quiet, lazy sort of spot.
On a boulder by a brook, Underneath a ledge o'erhanging, Lay he down, the seedlings banging By his side, nor paused to look
Once around him, but his eyes Closed he with a smile untroubling; And the streamlet's gentle bubbling Neath the happy summer skies


Soon had soothed him fast asleep. Oh! the lazy little stupid, Drowsing there as blind as Cupid-Soon he will have cause to weep.
For the seed-bag he forsook, When he tossed it from his shoulder, Open burst upon the boulder And fell scattered in the brook.
In a moment up they grew
Swiftly, silently around him ;
Oh that someone then had found him !
But, alas, he never knew

Till he woke and found that he Was surrounded by a thicket. Vainly did he beat and kick it In his efforts to be free.
Prisoned there for many days,
Now he can be always lazy:
Ah! he'd work now; but there stays he
Till the magic plant decays.


A little imp called Poollaleg, Who lives beside the river Weg, Is boasting of a piece of fun ; And I will tell you what he's done.
A worthy woman, stout and red, With six small urchins to be fed, Lives in a cottage called The Egg And does her washing in the Weg.
Now yesterday the things were spread New-washed beside the river bed. The woman in the house was she And boiling mackerel for tea.

Came little Poollaleg along,
A-humming of a frisky song;
He saw the urchins up the bank
And watched them playing round a tank.
He crept up, quiet as any mouse, And heard the woman in the house, He saw the washing spread to dry, And then he winked his wicked eye.
He seized a flannel petticoat And set it on the stream to float: It spread about like any gown, And drifted, bobbing up and down.
Then Poollaleg he counted four
And gave a loud and fearsome roar !
He roared and shrieked and stamped his leg
And yelled "She's drowning in the Weg!"

The urchins scrambled from the mound ; They cried "Our Bessie's bein' drowned!!" The woman heard the fearful row And said "What are they up to now?"
She clattered to the cottage door, And then she needed ask no more Her Bessie drowning in the stream She gave a loving mother's scream.
Then off she threw her boots and cap And jumped into the streamflop-flap Around her bulged her ample gown : A pole!" she cried. They threw it down.
With mighty splash did she progress And hooked the pole on little Bess. She hooked the petticoatBehold! No little Bess did it enfold.

They pulled her out upon the bank, With dress so dripping, hair so dank. She gazed around.Lo! Bessie stood Among the others of her brood.
They all stood gaping, ill at ease ; She'd been behind them, pulling peas They heard strange sounds across the Weg It was the mirth of Poollaleg!

A Puppy strayed from his stable home
All on an autumn day, Into a harvest-field to roam, Into the new-mown hay ;---" Bow-wow !" said he, Free life for me "

A Goblin lay in the bramble hedge,
Deep in its shade concealed, "Watching the scythe's far-sweeping edge Level the yellow field ;
" Heigh ho !" said he, Mischief for me !"
"Oh Puppy!" the Goblin cried, "Sweet Pup!
"Wilt be my gallant steed ? Lightly we'll sleep and early up; Mischief galore we'll breed! Fun you shall see Doggy, with me !"

Nimbly he leapt on the Puppy's back,
Armed with a hazel-switch, Dealing the sturdy flanks a whack! Lightly they cleared the ditch. "Puppy shall be Bond-slave to me !"

Now, when the hens are mad with fright
Or the old horse goes lame, Now, when the sheep-pen's forced at night Whom does the farmer blame ? Near ye must be, Imp and Puppee!

THE fairy gold
o o o o o

THE fair v goo?
o o o o
Hear the tale that we are told Of the Miser's Fairy Gold!
In his den the Miser's hoard In a glitt'ring pile lay stored.
Year by year he'd watched it grow, Stored and watchedhe loved it so-Watched its slow but sure increase, Till his spirit had no peace
Save in gloating o'er the pile Gathered by his craft and guile.
Now so huge had grown the store That, when he would count it o'er,

He a shovel would employ, Reckoning with childish joy:
" Golden shovel number ten, Would that I were young again!
" That makes shovel-full eighteen, Oh the lovely yellow sheen !
" Shovel-fulls full twenty-three : Rich red goldand all for me!! "
Ah, the Miser did not know It was Fairy Gold and so,
As the Fairy Queen should please, It would grow and would decrease.
And indeed when Muffyshaime, (This was the old sinner's name),
Game one day to count his store It was less by shovels four.

Muffy stared and scratched his head ; "What is happening?" he said.
Next daycould he trust his eyes? It had shrunk to half its size.
Muffyshaime he stamped and swore And his funny clothes he tore;
Wild and scared he stammered out "Now the Goblins are about! "
And even while he tore his dress The Gold was quickly growing less.
This he could no more endure ; He must keep the remnant sure
Yammering his lantern-jaws,
Wide he stretched his skinny claws,
Girded up his shrunken loins
And leapt upon the dwindling coins.


Deep he sank, with smothered yell, Wondrous is the tale I tell I
For now the Fairy's wand, unseen, Waved above the yellow sheen,
And, while one could count to ten, Lo, the Gold had grown again
Up to more than former size! Buried deep the Miser lies!
Vainly there he gasped and shoved, Prisoned by the Gold he loved!
See, the final picture shows Only Muffy's cap and toes.
All his hoarding was in vain. Sure the Moral must be plain.


^ .....
Two little imps, on a sultry day, Strolling along in a listless way, Sleepy and weary and cross and hot, Looking about for a shady spot.

' Ha! Here's a mushroom !" cries out one, "Here we can hide from the nasty sun." But, when they reach the mushroom's side, Lo, only room for one to hide.
"I saw it first!" cries the one who spoke. Ho !" says the other, you're pleased to joke "Fight for it, then!" "Very well!" "Come on!! Faces ablaze now and tempers gone,


" Ready!" they cry, and again, On guard At it they go, both breathing hard, G-rappling and punching and dancing round, Angrily stamping the hot, dry ground.
For seventeen minutes they box and close, Till one lands a whack on the other's nose. Down he falls, half-stunned and scared, By which the victor is declared.

The victor creeps 'neath the mushroom's rim, Finds there's exactly room for him. The vanquished imp regains his feet, Not yet will he accept defeat!
Quick he runs to the mushroom's side, Jumps on the top so soft and wide, Crushing it down on the imp below. He has the best after all, I trow.

the IMP and the fPELL

An Imp was pierced by Cupid's dart; Heigh-o !
A lovely elf had touched his heart; In woodland ways he mused apart; Heigh-o !
Said he "To Mother Ulph I'll go,"-~ Aha!
To ancient Mother Ulph I'll go, For she can help my suit, I know Aha!


The Imp his festive garb did don,
So gay; He put his cap of scarlet on And to the Witch's den is gone,
So gay!
The Witch is sitting in the gloom;
Ding-dong! The Witch she reads the Book of Doom; Her cats around her spit and fume:
The Imp is come to the Witch's door. Beware!
"Oh, good Mother Ulph, I am smit full sore With love of a nymph on the white sea-shore, So fair!
" Oh! can ye give me a magic spell,
Old dame? Oh! will ye give me a magic spell, That my suit of love may prosper well,
Old dame?"

The Witch she glowered at the pleading guest. Beware!
She bent her brows on the pleading guest And muttered Ye bring me a bold request: Beware!
"But, fegs! ye shall have a wondrous spell! Ho-ho!
Ye shall see me weave a wondrous SPELL, Which shall make your suit to prosper well, Ho-ho!"
O'er the caldron waved her skinny arm, So grim,
Till a board of black in the steam took form, Where two strange words made up the charm So grim :
" Oluvmelitilluv mmilong"
The spell! From out the gloom the aged crone Cried Read it! Read! in raucous tone
"The spell!"

The Imp he strove to make it plain,
Poor elf! His wizened face it worked in pain The stream of letters turned his brain,
Poor elf!
His throat gave forth a gurgling sound; 0 woe!
He beat his brow and swung around And dropped upon the clammy ground; O woe!
Old Mother Ulph she grinned in glee
" Ye fool! Well, sure, a fearful spell ye see, But since ye cannot spell it out I wis yell have to woo Without,
Ye fool!"
The Imp arose, half-dazed with fright, And found again the world of light
And sun. No more he sought for witch's art To win the princess of his heart, But fair and squarely played his part
And won.


Have you heard how Billigaboot,
One of the Pampas imps, Sailed away on a parachute
Looking for last year's shrimps? Here is a picture of Billigaboot: Look at his nose and examine his foot.

Were you told that Billigaboot
Went on an idle quest ? All, when he the enquiry put, Thought it was just a jest.
A picture of Billigaboot is here Asking a shrimpwas he born last year ?

Do you know that Billigaboot
Came to a tragic end? Passing a church, the parachute Down on it did descend:
His life is short and his end is dire Billi is spiked on the steeple spire.

I am told that Billigaboot Now is a weathercock, Dried by sun and blacked by soot, Turning above the clock.
Take a lesson, my little friend, Foolish seeking meets tragic end.


Once a goblin,
Gaily hobblin'
Past a quiet cottage,
Saw a boor there
By the door there
Eat his mess of pottage:
Saw him, smiling,
Time beguiling,
Stroll around the garden,
Blowing smoky
Olouds and choky
From a long churchwarden.


Then he went in,
Or was sent in, Left the pipe behind him.
Thought the goblin
(Conscience wobblin') I shall not remind him ;"
Climbed the table
Quick as able, Seized the pipe from off it,
Seizing baccy
Made a track he Quick as Mistress Muffet.
Home he trotted,
Down he squatted, Pipe he started filling;
Mouth-piece trying,
Match applying, Said he, This is killing!
Aint I clever?
Did you ever See an Imp a-smoking?
NOW you'll see it,
For with me it Is no case of joking."

Forth he sallied. Round him rallied
All his little neighbours; Some said, booing, "What's he doing ? "
Others said "Bejabers!" Then one goblin Started squabblin',
Said he'd like to try it. Scoffed another, "Ask your mother
If she'll let you buy it."
Soon the jokers
Saw the smoker's Face was quickly paling,
Very soon he
Looked quite moony; So they stopped their railing.
Said the goblin,
Feet a-wobblin', "Weather's gettin' hazy!"
Something mumbled,
Then he stumbled, Fell against a daisy.

All the goblins
Stopped their squabblin's, Gathered round their fellow.
Many said he
Must be dead;"He Looks so verytyellow !"
Said another
" Fetch his mother ; Break it to her gently:
This love's dart is
And his heart is Broken, evidently."
Stiff as poker
Lay the smoker But these words awoke him.
Kicked he smartly,
Sat up, partly, Coughed as if 'twould choke him.
" Feel so rummy!
Head all hummy !" Said he, feebly gasping ;
" Goblins, smash it,
Kick it! Bash it! !" They, the pipe then clasping,
Much they smashed it,
Kicked and bashed it, The account to settle;
Bore their fellow,
Sick and yellow, Home upon a nettle.
Goblins often
Gaily scoffin', Still pass by the garden;
But they never
More, no, never Steal a clay churchwarden.

London: Printed at The Chandos Press, 170, St. John Street.
Cl.er ken well.

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