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Title: A lyttel booke of nonsense
Author: Randall Davies
Release date: March 3, 2025 [eBook #75511]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Macmillan & Co. Ld, 1912
Credits: Alan, Susan E. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LYTTEL BOOKE OF NONSENSE ***
A Lyttel Booke of Nonsense
A Lyttel Booke
of Nonsense
London: Macmillan & Co. Ld.
mdccccxii
Copyright
First published
1912
To the Reader
Few of the cuts in this book are less than four hundred years old. To join them to new occasions need be no slur on their value and beauty, if the rhyme be taken as lightly as it is offered by a lover of old things as well as new, who is indebted to Messrs. Quaritch, Leighton, Barnard, and others, for much more than is here to be seen, as also to Edward Lear.
R. D.
Chelsea, mcmxii.
A Lyttel Booke of Nonsense
There was a young fellow of Sark,
Who wandered about in the Park;
When the constable said
He’d be better in bed,
He replied, “I’m afraid of the dark.”
There was an old man of Sheerness,
Who invited a friend to play chess;
But he’d lent all the pieces
To one of his nieces,
And stupidly lost her address.
There was an old fellow of Trent,
Who sold little boxes of scent;
But they said to him “Smell them
Yourself ere you sell them!”
Which made him feel far from content.
There was an old fellow called Cox,
Who tried to jump over the rocks;
But they said “Poor old feller,
He has come a smeller,
And look at the holes in his socks!”
There was a young fellow of Treves,
Who met with a watery grave;
There was nobody nigh
To attend to his cry
As he sank ’neath the swallowing wave.
There was a young fellow of Cadiz,
Who said “What a blessing Free Trade is;
But it’s not my ambition
To turn politician—
So let’s go and talk to these ladies.”
There was a young man of Athlone,
Who was trying to ride like Tod Sloan;
But a brute of a bee
So bewildered his gee
That he hardly escaped being thrown.
There was a young fellow of Brill,
Who supported the Parliament Bill;
But he’d larger ideas
For reforming the Peers,
And suggested a better way still.
There was an old fellow of Derry,
Who loved to see every one merry;
So he asked them to tea
At a mulberry tree,
And gave them some excellent sherry.
There was a young fellow of Kansas,
Who couldn’t remember the Lancers;
When they’d got half way through
He’d forget what to do,
Which flummoxed the rest of the dancers.
There was a young fellow of Sherborne,
Who would go to church in a turban;
When they put him outside
He politely replied
That he thought their ideas were suburban.
There was an old fellow of Reading,
Who went to his granddaughter’s wedding;
When they asked for a present
He tried to look pleasant,
But said “This is what I was dreading.”
There was a young housemaid at Ashdown,
Who strained herself pulling the sash down;
Being duly insured,
She was months being cured,
But the doctor insisted on cash down.
There was an old girl of Carstairs,
Whose villa required some repairs;
When she asked if the plumber
Could finish next summer,
He said he should be there for years.
There was a young lady of Bude,
Who frequently painted the nude;
So that some of her pictures
Invited the strictures
Of many an ignorant prude.
There was an old man of Baroda,
Who said, “I perceive a bad odour”;
When they said, “Is it faint?”
He replied, “No, it ain’t,”
So they fetched him a whiskey and soda.
There was a young fellow of Biscay,
Who gave all his horses some whiskey;
Which resulted in some
Being quite overcome,
And others decidedly frisky.
There was an old fellow of Shere,
Who wanted to act Chanticler;
To say that his dress
Was a brilliant success
Would be saying as much as we dare.
There was an old man of Shoreditch,
Whose motto was “Down with the rich,”
But the mounted police
In the interests of peace,
Succeeded in queering his pitch.
There was a young man of Dunblane,
Who was seized with a horrible pain;
When his wife asked him “Where?”
He replied “Somewhere here;
I must never touch muffins again.”
There was a young man of New Cross,
Who rode a most marvellous horse;
As it couldn’t be matched,
All the others were scratched,
And he simply walked over the course.
There was a young fellow of Belvoir,
Who in Love was a stern disbeliever;
But on going to the Castle
To take them a parcel,
He caught the insidious fever.
There was a young lady called Pippa,
Who wanted to play hunt the Slipper;
But she said she’d prefer
Their removing the spur,
For fear that the rowel might nip her.
There was a young man of Lepanto,
Who started to teach Esperanto;
But they said, “It’s too much,
We would sooner learn Dutch,”
And told him to pack his portmanteau.
There was a young lady called Mabel,
Who hated a room with a gable;
If there wasn’t another
She said, “Oh don’t bother,
I’ll sleep on the dining-room table.”
There was an old lady named Bonamy,
Who lectured them all on astronomy;
But they said, “It’s a bore,
We have heard this before,
You should stick to domestic economy.”
There was a young man of Strathpeffer,
Whose uncle grew deafer and deafer;
When he asked after Mary,
He thought he said “dairy,”
And said, “She’s a beautiful heifer.”
There was a young lady of Rome,
Who got lost in the great Catacomb;
At the end of the week
She was found by a Greek,
Who insisted on seeing her home.
There was an old man of the Wye,
Who said, “I could sit down and cry;
When the fish are all biting,
This d——d little whiting
Has swallowed my favourite fly.”
There was a young man who said, “How
Shall I flee from this horrible cow?
I will stand on a stool,
And pretend I’m at school,
With mamma’s cockatoo on my brow.”
There was an old man of Montrose,
Who discouraged his granddaughter’s beaux;
When she asked them to call
He said nothing at all,
Or caught them a whack on the nose.
There was an old fellow of Tweeddale,
Who played on the flute and the fiddle;
But he made such a din
That the neighbours came in,
And made him leave off in the middle.
There was a young man of Spithead,
Who never could get enough bread;
Till he married a wife,
Who restored him to life,
For she made it herself—so she said.
There was a young lady of Garth,
Who was just getting into the bath,
When her mother said, “Nelly,
You must eat this jelly,
You’re getting as thin as a lath.”
There was a young damsel of Ore,
Who tickled a fool with a straw;
Quoth the fool, “How it tickles,
I can’t eat my victuals,
Oh, don’t make me laugh any more!”
There was a young fellow of Raby,
Who behaved like a regular gaby;
When he went to the castle,
To call for a parcel,
He wanted to dandle the baby.
There was a young man of Belgrade,
Who used to catch fish with a spade;
When he’d caught three or four,
He would fling them ashore,
Where he fried them in warm lemonade.
There was a young fellow of Hawarden,
Who entreated his visitors’ pardon;
The boiler had cracked,
As a matter of fact,
So he brought them some lunch in the garden.
There was an old fellow of Lee,
Who hid himself under a tree;
But when winter came round
He was easily found,
For the leaves had come off—don’t you see?
There was an old lady of Lee,
Who thought that her Chow had a flea;
She was so much afraid,
That she rang for her maid,
But the butler said, “Leave it to me.”
There was a young sportsman, whose trouble
Was constantly seeing things double;
His dog and his ape
Took a duplicate shape,
And he noticed the same with the stubble.
There was an old man (of great age),
Whose daughters were both on the stage;
To the one who was Scotch
He presented his watch—
To the other a beautiful cage.
There was an old knight of New Cross,
Who was riding a troublesome horse;
But he said, “If he rears,
I shall just box his ears,
Though I’d rather use kindness than force.”
There was a young man of Southall,
Who went to a fancy dress ball;
Information we lack
As to how he got back—
Or whether he got back at all.
There was an old fellow of Leek,
Who believed in compulsory Greek;
As from being at college
He’d no other knowledge,
The reason was not far to seek.
There was a young man of Belgrade,
And this was a drawing he made;
People called it absurd,
Though the critics averred
That he must have been taught at the Slade.
There was a young lady of Sfax,
Who purchased some promising hacks;
But when riding astraddle
Without any saddle,
She frequently fell off their backs.
There was an old lady of Nice,
Whose house was a haven of peace;
Till they all got so warm
Over Tariff Reform,
That they had to call in the police.
There was a young fellow of Sheen,
Who was trying to reach Gretna Green;
But he saw with impatience
That all his relations
Were trying to be first on the scene.
There was an old man of the coast,
Whose wife was as deaf as a post;
Unaware of his tread
As he staggered to bed,
Or the groans of the family ghost.
There was a young fellow of Pisa,
Whose wife was descended from Caesar;
The shape of his feet
Made her joy incomplete—
But she valued his efforts to please her.
There was an old fellow of Sheen,
Who was hired to read to the Queen;
But she told him to stop
When he got to the top
Of page ninety in chapter sixteen.
There was a young lady of Shere,
Who was loved by an indigent Peer,
But she sacrificed rank
To a share in a Bank—
About 35,000 a year.
There was an old man of St. Abbs,
Who wanted to buy a few crabs;
His annoyance was great
When they offered him skate,
And turbot, and haddocks and dabs.
There was a young man of Seattle,
Whose brothers were killed in a battle;
He feelingly said,
“It’s a pity they’re dead—
But I shall inherit their cattle.”
There was an old fellow of Quorn,
Who borrowed some dogs and a horn;
Though he hadn’t a nag
He got hold of a stag,
And chased it all over the lawn.
The Lord Chamberlain, once, on a day,
Was requested to license a play;
But he said, “If it’s clever,
My answer is Never!”
And told them to take it away.
There was an old fellow of Parma,
Who purchased a new suit of armour;
When they said, “Does it fit?”
He replied, “Not a bit—
Pray leave me until I am calmer!”