AN OLD-TIME AND A MODERN SONG
"Baby Bye,
Here's a fly;
Let us watch him, you and I.
How he crawls
Up the walls;
Yet he never falls!
I believe with six such legs
You and I could walk on eggs.
There he goes
On his toes
Tickling baby's nose."
LEGEND OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Sebert the first East Saxon king,
Who of our Christ did preach and sing
He built the first church on the ground
Where fair Westminster now is found.
And to this church 'tis often said
Came good St. Peter from the dead
And with the angels sweet and fair
Descending on a golden stair
Reaching from the Heavens above
And bringing to this earth pure love.
He consecrated and he blest
This Christian church above the rest
Of churches in old England's Isle
And on this site the saints still smile.
HOW MOTHER LEARNED NATURAL HISTORY
One day while sitting on the beach
Talking of child training
With a most learned pedagogue
From whose lips were raining
Great torrents of most wondrous lore
Upon most subjects known,
My Mother learned one little fact
This wise man did not own—
And this through making a most sad
Acquaintance with a bee,
Who wore a yellow jacket suit
To show his family.
This stinging warrior with his stings
Felt nothing of alarm
And boldly marched beneath the lace
That covered Mother's arm.
And when she tried to let him out
He stung her o'er and o'er
As if he had a warrior band
And when at last my Mother brave
Killed this most wicked bee
Her arm was, oh, so very sore,
With ten lumps I could see.
Said the professor solemnly
While gazing at her arm,
"I thought my Natural History said
That bees can do no harm;
If they but use their stingers once,
They ne'er can sting again.
But you've been stung by some insect
That carriers stingers ten."
"Oh, no," said Mother, with a smile,
"It had one stinger wee,
But now I call a yellow jacket,
'Sting ad finem bee.'"
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
In days of chivalry, so I've been told,
All knights were gallant, kind and bold,
But ladies though ever so modest and sweet
Made the bold knights kneel down at their feet.
ON MIDSUMMER NIGHT
On midsummer night or St. John's eve
Is fairies' night when they receive
All their friends and all their slaves,
The goblins, witches, trollish knaves.
And if the olden tales be true,
All men and maids have cause to rue,
Who on this night dare go abroad
And touch a foot to fairy sod;
For naught will save them but to jump
Right o'er a fire or blazing stump.
But if you're brave and do not fear
That for your rashness you'll pay dear,
Then stand beneath an elder tree
And King of Fairies you may see.
Should you then wish to ride afar
With him to some far distant star,
Then quickly tread St. John's wort flower
And also carry you all night
To many lands, until the light
Comes with Aurora's face so fair,
When he will drop you anywhere,
It matters not where he may be,
On mountain, desert, or the sea.
And therefore few men whom I know
Are brave enough with him to go.
And think it best to bide at home
And not with fairies far to roam.
BEWARE OF THE WET
Johnnie Jones, you'd bettah stop
Paddlin' in de wet,
Lest you grow to be a duck
Or somethin' worser yet
With a pudgy mushroom head
Shaped like an umbrella,
Which would make you, handsome lad,
Such an ugly fellah.
TO MODERN KNIGHTS
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By saying they lived worthless lives
Because they could not go to fight
In cruel war with men of might?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives,
Declaring they lived worthless lives
And classing them with lunatics
Or, even worse, with fierce convicts?
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By saying they are worthless lives,
And that all women are inferiors,
And even black men are superiors?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By calling them mere worthless lives
Because all men now take the lead,
E'en though they cannot write or read?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
Awake! Arise! Oh, my good brothers,
Your country's law insults your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts and your wives,
Declaring that no vote have they
As to who rules this U. S. A.
So, modern knights, now make new laws
That bear an equal franchise clause.
A SONG OF THE WOODS
"My leaves are turning crimson," the giant oak tree said,
"It's almost time these children should seek their winter's bed,
But how they still cling to me and gleam with crimson hue,
They truly are more lovely than cirrus clouds of blue.
"And now throughout the forest—list! hear their voices ring,
But 'tis in tones of sadness and sighing they now sing—
'Alas! 'tis gone, fair summer, and winter's reign is near,
He cruelly strips the forest of all her summer cheer
By killing all her lovely leaves and likewise flowers gay
And driving all her fairy folk to homes of far away.'"
BRICK VERSUS WATCH
"Nursie, dear, oh, I'ze afraid
I haz breakt a brick
In de big old fireplace.
Please to mend it quick
'Fore dear Muzzie tums along
And sees w'at I haz done,
Poundin' with my Daddy's watch
Ter make it fasser run."
KOPPA AFTER PI
I've very little Latin and very little Greek
Stored away in my small brain, which yet is very weak,
But one thing I'll remember, I think until I die,
And that is that the KOPPA follows after Pi.
And mother says that perhaps this solves the very reason why
The "Kops" they follow after cooks well trained in baking pie.
THE PAST AND PRESENT EVE
Where is the maid of the long ago
Who stayed at home and knit?
And where is she who won her way
Having a fainting fit?
Where is the maid who sat all day
Waiting a lover to call
So she might wed and ride away
Unto his manor hall?
And where is she who always blushed
And giggled "Tee-hee-hee!"
Whene'er a noble "Adamite"
She even chanced to see?
Where is she with the wasp-like waist
And Chinese hobbling feet,
The maiden fair with light bleached hair
Where is the dame who left her babes
Unto a servant's care,
While she reposed or tried to make
Herself look wondrous fair?
And where is she who wouldn't vote
And did not care to know
Who guided this great ship of state
And saved it from the foe?
She's gone away to "Has-been-realms,"
And now we have instead
Our glorious type of womankind
Who forges fast ahead.
Our brothers who now make the laws
Of this great country fair,
'Tis they alone who power have
Their franchise rights to share.
I pray you show your chivalry,
Oh, all you worthy knights,
And vote for equal franchise laws,
Which are your sisters' rights!
MY IMPRESSIONS OF NEWSPAPER MEN
[Written by request of a newspaper man.]
Newspaper men, so I believe,
Have tongues that roll around
As if well oiled with labial grease,
The slickest to be found.
Most of these men are very nice
And have a pleasant look,
But if I utter one wee word
They make it fill a book.
Some one has said that simple smiles
For length can't be surpassed;
Because there is a whole big mile
'Twixt letters first and last.
But I believe newspaper men
Can make words longer still,
With oceans rolling in between
And as for questioning people
No Eves would dare compete
With skilful news reporters
In any question feat.
But of all men I most adore
Are these newspaper men,
And I would now most loudly cheer
THESE BRAVE KNIGHTS OF THE PEN.
PETER VISITS AN EPISCOPAL CHURCH
When Peter who was a country jake
A visit to a church did make
He sat with pleased look on his face
As if indeed in Heaven's place.
And after service when his Ma
Praised him aloud to his kind Pa
He said, "Of course I sat quite still
And watched the preacher's wives so ill
All dressed in nighties, though their hair
Was primped and curled as for a fair."
A GHOST STORY
On a dreadful stormy night
My dear Tommy had a fight
With great Peter Snookum Snee,
Cat of fighting pedigree.
In this battle, sad to tell,
My poor Tom, alas, he fell,
Ending thus his earthly life
Through the wicked God of Strife.
On the next night while in bed,
Sleepless and with aching head,
For my Tom, my precious pet,
My poor eyes with tears were wet.
Suddenly his voice I heard,
And in ghostly whispers purred,
"I am coming, mistress, dear,
"Good cat heaven have I left,
I would comfort you, bereft
For your precious Tommy pet,
I would teach you not to fret.
"Do you hear me in the hall
With my ghostly soft footfall?
Up the stairs I bound to thee,
Jumping steps from one to three.
"Now my paw is on your door,
I turn the knob one-two-three-four,
And you may see your Tommy now—
Me-ow! Me-ow! Me-ow! ow! ow!"
AN ESPERANTO POEM PLAIN TO ALL
Hundido krias—"Bow-wow-wow!"
Katido krias—"Meow-meow!"
Bovido krias—"Moo-moo-moo!"
Kolombo krias—"Coo-coo-coo!"
Shafido krias—"Baa-baa-baa!"
Infano krias—"Ma-ma-ma!"
THE WINDS OF MARCH
[Awarded Gold Medal in April (1912) Issue of St. Nicholas Magazine.]
Last March, "Imp March Winds" teased me so, I had no peace of mind,
For when I took a little walk, these imps came close behind,
And plucked my hat from off my head and hurled it to the ground,
Or blew my handkerchief so far it never could be found.
So, thinking of the Tangu rug, I asked it to appear
And carry me away to Mars, where I need have no fear
Of being tortured by these imps who love to tease and tease,
And never let the big or small feel perfectly at ease.
Then on the magic rug I flew away up in the air,
And landed on the planet Mars. Alas, the imps were there!
And working greater havoc far than they had done on earth,
For 'twas indeed the warlike Mars that gave these bad imps birth.
A BACHELOR'S OPINION OF A BABY
Said Auntie to a bachelor—
"Do look at my fine boy!
Oh, isn't he a cunning dear—
His mother's greatest joy."
"Ah, really," said the bachelor,
While blushing rosy red,
"And can he sit on his hind legs
And beg when he is fed?"
MY COUNTRY
In this dear land we need not sigh
And fear as orphans we may die,
As long as we can look on high
And see the starry banner fly
Above the children passing by,
Who gaze above, salute and cry,
"MY COUNTRY!"
GREEDY IMPS
Nine goblins, ten witches, and bad imps galore
Danced round me last night and made me so sore.
They pricked and they stabbed, they stung and they clawed
At my poor "tum-tum," oh, my, how they gnawed.
I struggled against them while trembling with fear
And crying out loudly, "Oh, Mother, come here!"
Just like a good fairy she came to my aid
And made the bad goblins so quickly to fade
Away in the darkness of "I-know-not-where,"
I'm sure that no children would like to go there.
And as Mother petted my poor aching head
She looked at me sadly and softly she said,
"The imps you have seen came but at your call
As you were so greedy and ate nearly all
The rich candied cherries your uncle sent you
Instead of obeying and eating a few."
TO FRIENDS WHO REMEMBERED ME WHEN I WAS ILL
I thank you for the Fairies, you sent from KINDNESS BOWER,
Bearing healing messages through thought, or deed, or flower,
While wicked pains were troubling me and I felt very sad,
Your loving little messengers, they came and made me glad
By telling cheerful stories of flowering shrub and tree,
And driving through forgetfulness the horrid pains from me.
GREETINGS TO NORFOLK
Greetings to the city of my birth, Norfolk town,
Proud am I to claim this birthplace of renown,
In Virginia's realms whose glory antedates
That of all our country's other states.
ORIENTAL METAPHOR
Anysing just suits me,
Makes me happy be,
All I needs to trinkee
Is few leaves of tea
With a drop of water
No more than you meet
In ze little holelets
Made by chickens' feet.
And as to my eatin'
Weenty sings suffice,
All I needs for dinner
Iz a grain ob rice.
Oh, I eat so little
For my biggish size,
I'ze just like a hound dog
Only munchin' flies.
A TORPID LIVER 'SPLODED HIM
Johnnie's father's gone to Heaven
So his mother told my ma
Doctor said a torpid liver
Killed poor Johnnie's sickly pa.
'Spose it 'sploded and then shot him
Way up in the clouds above,
Where his pieces were united
By the angels' songs of love.
THE SOUL OF A MISER
'Tis said that the soul of a miserly man,
So small it becomes that any one can
Blow it right through a tiny round pill
Thence through the top of a humming bird's bill
Into the eye of a wee little bug,
Which wouldn't cause it to wink or to shrug.
LEARNING THE FRENCH ALPHABET
PROFESSOR GROS TO HIS PUPILS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres a, b, c.
MAÎTRE CORBEAU:
Non, ces lettres je n'aime pas,
Je crie seulement k-k-k.
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
MAÎTRE COCHON:
Non, non, non, je seulement dis
La jolie lettre i-i-i.
PROFESSOR GROS:
MÉCHANT GARCON:
Non, non, non, je seulement dis
La comique lettre j-j-j.
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
LA MÉCHANTE FILLETTE:
Non, non, non, pour faire bons mots
Je préfére la grande lettre O——
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
LA VIELLE FILLE: FRANÇAISE:
Non, non, non, je seulement sais
La douce bonne lettre t-t-t.
DANS MA MAISON
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai
Un cheval, un perroquet,
Un crocodile et un taureau,
Une grande puce et un chevreau,
Une vache, un âne et une brebis,
Un papillon, des chauves-souris.
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai
Une tigresse, un terrier,
Un épagneul et un agneau,
Une girafe et un beau veau,
Un phoque, un bouc et un chameau,
Un singe, un boeuf et un corbeau.
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai,
Une ânesse, un lévrier,
Une alouette et un lièvre,
Une linotte et une bonne chèvre,
Un boule-dogue et un moineau,
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai
Une cigogne, des araignées,
Une grande chenille, un léopard,
Une tortue et un canard,
Un aigle, une taupe, des lionceaux,
Et un grand Monsieur Crapaud.
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai
Une baleine, un fier geai,
Un éléphant et un bon chat,
Un renard, beaucoup des rats,
Une loutre, un tigre et un mulet,
Un coq, une poule et des poulets.
Dans ma maison jolie j'ai
Une perruche, un bélier,
Une jument et un hibou
Un vautour et un loulou,
Une pie, une mouche et une belette,
Des autruches et une fauvette.
DANS MON JOLI JARDIN
Dans mon joli jardin j'ai
De belles roses et des oeillets
Des hyacinthes et des pensées
Du chevrefeuille, des tulipes gaies
Des passe-roses, de l'oranger
De blancs lilacs parfumés.
Dans mon joli jardin j'ai
Des muguets et des bluets
Des campanules très coquettes
La simple et modeste violette,
Des marguerites, de rouges pavots
De beaux arbres si grands et haut!
DANS MA CUISINE
AS AN AID IN MEMORIZING THE ARTICLES IN THE KITCHEN
Dans ma cuisine joilie j'ai
Une poèle, et l'évier.
Des cuilliers, et des couteaux
Un balai, un fourneau,
Une bouilloire, et une théière
Et ma bonne cuisinière.
Dans ma cuisine jolie j'ai
Des casseroles et un pass-thé,
Des porcelaines, un joli moule,
Beaucoup de plats et une grande boule,
Des soucoupes une cafetière
Et ma bonne cuisinière.
Dans ma cuisine jolie j'ai
De belles tasses, un pot à lait;
Beaucoup de sucre et de farine
Sont toujours dans ma cuisine;
Et la reine de ma pauvre mère
Dans ma cuisine jolie j'ai
Une grande armoire, une horloge vraie
Beaucoup d'eau et bon café
Du chocolat, aussi du thé,
Du vin, du lait, et la bìere
Pour notre bonne cuisinière.
UN PETIT BARBARE POU
[Written to remember that pou, genou, hibou, joujou, caillou, bijou and chou take X in the plural.]
Une fois un petit barbare pou,
A donné grand mal au genou
Du très sage et vieux hibou
Qui a jeté son joujou
(Un petit, mais dur caillou)
Qui etait son cher bijou
À la tête du méchant pou
Faisant lui un brisé chou.
WISE REPLIES
"Joan of Arc, and who was she?"
Asked the teacher of little Leigh.
"Wife of Noah, of course," said she,
"Who sailed the ark upon the sea."
"John's so wise he laughed at Leigh
When she tried to answer me,
So in the future for replies
We'll always go to John the wise.
Now what is lava, Johnnie, dear,
Can it be found in places near?"
"Why, certainly," said smiling John,
"Most everyday Dad puts it on,
And covers nearly his whole face
With lava thick in every place."
I PREFER A LAZY BEE
Once I saw a little bee
Sitting very quietly
On a baby elder tree.
Coming near to the young bee
I reproached him scornfully,
Saying, "You're not busy, bee."
Instantly the wicked bee
Made himself to busy be
By most cruelly stinging me.
Since that time I never see
Any busy buzzing bee
But I wish he'd lazy be.
WHEN WOMEN VOTE
[Written for the Evansville, Indiana, Courier.]
When women vote
On high will float
The banner of true worth.
No more Sir Graft
Or Wily Craft
Shall rule good Mother Earth.
Then peace will be
On land and sea,
The goddess we adore.
Not e'en a germ
Or ugly worm
Will dare molest us more.
This jingle may be sung to the air of Auld Lang Syne.
AN OLD GARDEN
In my old Savannah garden,
There roses and jasmine grew
And many sweet for-get-me-nots
Of lovely shades of blue.
Japonica's waxen blossoms
Of purest white and pink,
Wistarias with honey cups
From which the bees could drink.
Sweet old-time shrubs whose odors
Filled all the sun-kissed air
And many another beauty
Of "Flora" was found there;
So one would think that garden
A place of pure delight,
But, alas, not so since Tom Cat
Sang ditties there each night.
SPELLING WRONG "RONG"
To-day I got a lickin'
And teacher called me bad,
But I can't see the reason—
I guess it's just her fad.
For when in class she asked me,
"The word wrong will you spell?"
"R-O-N-G," I quickly cried,
And thought that I did well.
"That's wrong!" she cried out fiercely,
"I know it," I replied,
While beaming with a pleasant grin
So very broad and wide.
And then to think she seized me
And called me "sassy boy"
While lashing me with a peach limb
And blasting all my joy.