In My Nursery

Hey! the little postman,
And his little dog.
Here he comes a-hopping
Like a little frog;
Bringing me a letter,
Bringing me a note,
In the little pocket
Of his little coat.

Hey! the little postman,
And his little bag,
Here he comes a-trotting
Like a little nag;
Bringing me a paper,
Bringing me a bill,
From the little grocer
On the little hill.

Hey! the little postman,
And his little hat,
Here he comes a-creeping
Like a little cat.
What is that he's saying?
"Naught for you to-day!"
Horrid little postman!
I wish you'd go away!

HOPSY UPSY.

Hopsy upsy, Baby oh!
Into your bath you now must go;
Splash and dash, and paddle and plash,
That's what you like, my Baby oh!

Where is the sponge for Baby oh?
See the silvery fountains flow,—
Diamond drops so bright and clear,
Falling all over my Baby dear.

Now for the soap, my Baby oh!
Watch the bubbles that come and go;
Rainbow isles in a sea of foam,
Reflecting your smiles, they go and come.

Here is the towel for Baby oh!
Cannot stay in all day, you know;
Now scrub and rub, and rub and scrub,
And so good-by to the beautiful tub.

Now for the shirt, my Baby oh!
Soft and warm, and as white as snow.
Puffy white petticoats, fluffy white gown;
Why, what a great ball of thistle-down!

Last come the curls, my Baby oh!
Soft as silver they fall and flow.
Now toss him up and carry him down,
The bonniest Baby in Boston town!

LITTLE BLACK MONKEY.

Little black Monkey sat up in a tree,
Little black Monkey he grinned at me;
He put out his paw for a cocoanut,
And he dropped it down on my occiput.

The occiput is a part, you know,
Of the head which does on my shoulders grow;
And it's very unpleasant to have it hit,
Especially when there's no hair on it.

I took up my gun, and I said, "Now, why,
Little black Monkey, should you not die?
I'll hit you soon in a vital part!
It may be your head, or it may be your heart."

I steadied my gun, and I aimed it true;
The trigger it snapped and the bullet it flew;
But just where it went to I cannot tell,
For I never could find where that bullet fell.

Little black Monkey still sat in the tree,
And placidly, wickedly grinned at me.
I took up my gun and I walked away,
And postponed his death till another day.

JIPPY AND JIMMY.

Jippy and Jimmy were two little dogs.
They went to sail on some floating logs;
The logs rolled over, the dogs rolled in,
And they got very wet, for their clothes were thin.

Jippy and Jimmy crept out again.
They said, "The river is full of rain!"
They said, "The water is far from dry!
Ki-hi! ki-hi! ki-hi-yi! ki-hi!"

Jippy and Jimmy went shivering home.
They said, "On the river no more we'll roam;
And we won't go to sail until we learn how,
Bow-wow! bow-wow! bow-wow-wow! bow-wow!"

MASTER JACK'S SONG.

[Written after spending the Christmas Holidays at Grandmamma's.]

You may talk about your groves,
Where you wander with your loves.
You may talk about your moonlit waves that fall and flow.
Something fairer far than these
I can show you, if you please.
'Tis the charming little cupboard where the jam-pots grow.

Chorus. Where the jam-pots grow!
Where the jam-pots grow!
Where the jelly jolly, jelly jolly jam-pots grow.
The fairest spot to me,
On the land or on the sea,
Is the charming little cupboard where the jam-pots grow.

There the golden peaches shine
In their syrup clear and fine,
And the raspberries are blushing with a dusky glow.
And the cherry and the plum
Seem to beckon you to come
To the charming little cupboard where the jam-pots grow.

There the sprightly pickles stand,
With the catsup close at hand,
And the marmalades and jellies in a goodly row.
While the quinces' ruddy fire
Would an anchorite inspire
To seek the little cupboard where the jam-pots grow.

Never tell me of your bowers
That are full of bugs and flowers!
Never tell me of your meadows where the breezes blow!
But sing me, if you will,
Of the house beneath the hill,
And the darling little cupboard where the jam-pots grow.

MOTHER ROSEBUSH.

There are roses that grow on a vine, on a vine,
There are roses that grow on a stalk;
But my little Rose
Grows on ten little toes,
So I'll take my Rose out for a walk.
Come out in the garden, Rosy Posy,
Come visit your cousins, child, with me!
If you are my daughter, it stands to reason
Your own Mother Rosebush I must be.

Now, here is your cousin Damask, Rosy!
And, Rosy, here is your cousin Blush;
General Jacqueminot,
(Your uncle, you know,)
Salutes you hero with his crimson flush.
Here's Gloire de Dijon, a splendid fellow,
All creamy and dreamy and soft and sweet;
And Cloth-of-Gold, with his coat of yellow,
Is dropping rose-nobles here at your feet.

My Baltimore Belle, my Queen of the Prairie,
Now, why are your ladyships looking so cross?
Lord Butterfly, see!
And Sir Honey de Bee,
Have deserted them both for your sweet cousin Moss.
All! Maréchal Niel, I am glad to observe, sir,
You train up your buds in the way they should go,
All buttoned up close; while careless Niphetos
Lets her children go fluttering to and fro.

You whitest beauty, what is your name, now?
"Snow Queen?" Ay, and it suits you well!
And yonder, I see,
Is my friend Cherokee,
Who will not stop climbing, his name to tell;
And hero and there are blushing and blowing
Crimson and yellow and white and pink;
Pale or angry, gleaming or glowing.
The whole world's turning to roses, I think.

Oh! fair is the rose on the vine, on the vine,
And sweet is the rose on the tree;
But there's only one Rose
That has ten little toes,
And she is the Rose for me.
Come, put on your calyx, Rosy Posy,
Put on your calyx and come with me;
For if you are my daughter, it stands to reason,
Your own Mother Rosebush I must be.

THE FIVE LITTLE PRINCESSES.

Five little princesses started off to school,
Following their noses, because it was the rule;
But one nose turned up, and another nose turned down,
So all these little princesses were lost in the town.

Poor little princesses cannot find their way.
Naughty little noses, to lead them astray!
Poor little princesses, sadly they roam;
Naughty little noses, pray lead them home!

THE HORNET AND THE BEE.

Said the hornet to the bee,
"Pray you, will you marry me?
Will you be my little wife,
For to love me all my life?
You shall have a velvet cloak,
And a bonnet with a poke.
You shall sit upon a chair
With a cabbage in your hair.
You shall ride upon a horse,
If you fancy such a course.
You shall feed on venison pasty
In a manner trig and tasty;
Devilled bones and apple-cores,
If you like them, shall be yours.
You shall drink both rum and wine,
If you only will be mine.
Pray you, will you marry me?"
Said the hornet to the bee.

Said the bee unto the hornet,
"Your proposal, sir, I scorn it.
Marry one devoid of money,
Who can't make a drop of honey?
Cannot even play the fiddle,
And is pinched up in the middle?
Nay, my love is set more high.

Cockychafer's bride am I.
Cockychafer whirring loud,
Frisking free and prancing proud,
Cockychafer blithe and gay,
He hath stole my heart away.
Him alone I mean to marry,
So no longer you need tarry.
Not another moment stay!
Cockychafer comes this way.
Your proposal, sir, I scorn it!"
Said the bee unto the hornet.

So the cockychafer came,
Took the bee to be his dame.
Took the bee to be his wife,
For to love her all his life.
Wedding dress of goblin green,
Hat and feathers for a queen,
Worsted mittens on her feet,
Thus her toilet was complete.
Then when it was time to dine,
Cockychafer brought her wine,
Roasted mouse and bunny-fish,
Porridge in a silver dish;
Lobster-claws and scalloped beast.
Was not that a lovely feast?
But when it was time to sup,
Cockychafer ate her up.
Thus concludes the history
Of the hornet and the bee.

THE THREE LITTLE CHICKENS WHO WENT OUT TO TEA, AND THE ELEPHANT.

Little chickens, one, two, three,
They went out to take their tea,
Brisk and gay as gay could be,
Cackle wackle wackle!
Feathers brushed all smooth and neat,
Yellow stockings on their feet,
Tails and tuftings all complete,
Cackle wackle wackle!

"Very seldom," said the three,
"Like of us the world can see,
Beautiful exceedingly,
Cackle wackle wackle!
Such our form and such our face,
Such our Cochin China grace,
We must win in beauty's race,
Cackle wackle wackle!"

Met an elephant large and wise,
Looked at them with both his eyes:
Caused these chickens great surprise,
Cackle wackle wackle!
"Why," they said, "do you suppose
Elephant doesn't look out of his nose,
So very conveniently it grows?
Cackle wackle wackle!

"Elephant with nose so long,
Sing on now a lovely song,
As we gayly trip along,
Cackle wackle wackle!
Sing of us and sing of you,
Sing of corn and barley too,
Beauteous beast with eyes of blue,
Cackle wackle wackle!"

Elephant sang so loud and sweet,
Chickens fell before his feet;
For his love they did entreat,
Cackle wackle wackle.
"Well-a-day! and woe is me!
Would we all might elephants be!
Then he'd marry us, one, two, three,
Cackle wackle wackle!"

Elephant next began to dance:
Capered about with a stately prance
Learned from his grandmother over in France,
Cackle wackle wackle!
Fast and faster 'gan to tread,
Trod on every chicken's head,
Killed them all uncommonly dead,
Cackle wackle wackle!

MORAL.

Little chickens, one, two, three,
When you're walking out to tea,
Don't make love to all you see,
Cackle wackle wackle!
Elephants have lovely eyes,
But to woo them is not wise,
For they are not quite your size!
Cackle wackle wackle!

A LEGEND OF LAKE OKEEFINOKEE.

There once was a frog,
And he lived in a bog,
On the banks of Lake Okeefinokee.
And the words of the song
That he sang all day long
Were, "Croakety croakety croaky."

Said the frog, "I have found
That my life's daily round
In this place is exceedingly poky.
So no longer I'll stop,
But I swiftly will hop
Away from Lake Okeefinokee."

Now a bad mocking-bird
By mischance overheard
The words of the frog as he spokee.
And he said, "All my life
Frog and I've been at strife,
As we lived by Lake Okeefinokee.

"Now I see at a glance
Here's a capital chance
For to play him a practical jokee.
So I'll venture to say
That he shall not to-day
Leave the banks of Lake Okeefinokee."

So this bad mocking-bird,
Without saying a word,
He flew to a tree which was oaky.
And loudly he sang,
Till the whole forest rang,
"Oh! Croakety croakety croaky!"

As he warbled this song,
Master Frog came along,
A-filling his pipe for to smokee,
And he said, "'Tis some frog
Has escaped from the bog
Of Okeefinokee-finokee.

"I am filled with amaze
To hear one of my race
A-warbling on top of an oaky;
But if frogs can climb trees,
I may still find some ease
On the banks of Lake Okeefinokee."

So he climbed up the tree;
But alas! down fell he!
And his lovely green neck it was brokee;
And the sad truth to say,
Never more did he stray
From the banks of Lake Okeefinokee.

And the bad mocking-bird
Said, "How very absurd
And delightful a practical jokee!"
But I'm happy to say
He was drowned the next day
In the waters of Okeefinokee.

GRANDPAPA'S VALENTINE.

I may not claim her lovely hand,
My darling and my pride!
I may not ask her to become
My bright and beauteous bride;
The measure of my love for her
May not be said or sung;
And all because I'm rather old,
And she is rather young.

I may not clasp her slender waist,
And thread the mazy dance;
I may not drive her in the Park,
With steeds that neigh and prance.
I may not tempt her with my lands,
Nor buy her with my gold;
And all because she's rather young,
And I am rather old.

She leaves me for a younger swain,
A plump and beardless boy.
She slights me for a sugar-plum,
Neglects me for a toy.
And worst of all, this state of things
Can never altered be;
For I am nearly sixty-eight,
And she is only three.

ALIBAZAN.

All on the road to Alibazan,
A May Day in the morning,
'Twas there I met a bonny young man,
A May Day in the morning;
A bonny young man all dressed in blue,
Hat and feather and stocking and shoe,
Ruff and doublet and mantle too,
A May Day in the morning.

He made me a bow, and he made me three,
A May Day in the morning;
He said, in truth, I was fair to see,
A May Day in the morning.
"And say, will you be my sweetheart now?
I'll marry you truly with ring and vow;
I've ten fat sheep and a black-nosed cow,
A May Day in the morning.

"What shall we buy in Alibazan,
A May Day in the morning?
A pair of shoes and a feathered fan,
A May Day in the morning.
A velvet gown all set with pearls,
A silver hat for your golden curls,
A pot of pinks for my pink of girls,
A May Day in the morning."

All in the streets of Alibazan,
A May Day in the morning,
The merry maidens tripped and ran,
A May Day in the morning.
And this was fine, and that was free,
But he turned from them all to look on me;
And "Oh! but there's none so fair to see,
A May Day in the morning."

All in the church of Alibazan,
A May Day in the morning,
'Twas there I wed my bonny young man,
A May Day in the morning.
And oh! 'tis I am his sweetheart now!
And oh! 'tis we are happy, I trow,
With our ten fat sheep and our black-nosed cow,
A May Day in the morning.

THE THREE FISHERS.

John, Frederick, and Henry,
Had once a holiday;
And they would go a-fishing,
So merry and so gay.
They went to fish for salmon,
These little children three;
As in this pretty picture
You all may plainly see.

It was not in the ocean,
Nor from the river shore,
But in the monstrous water-butt
Outside the kitchen door.
And John he had a fish-hook,
And Fred a crooked pin,
And Henry took his sister's net,
And thought it was no sin.

They climbed up on the ladder,
Till they the top did win;
And then they perched upon the edge,
And then they did begin.
But how their fishing prospered,
Or if they did it well,
Or if they caught the salmon,
I cannot, cannot tell.

Because I was not there, you know,
But I can only say
That I too went a-fishing,
That pleasant summer day.
It was not for a salmon,
Or shark with monstrous fin,
But it was for three little boys,
All dripping to the skin.

PEEPSY.

[After the manner of Jane Taylor.]

Our Julia has a little bird,
And Peepsy is his name;
And now I'll sing a little song
To celebrate the same.

He's yellow all from head to foot,
And he is very sweet,
And very little trouble, for
He never wants to eat.

He never asks for water clear,
He never chirps for seed,
For cracker, or for cuttlefish,
For sugar or chickweed.

"Oh! what a perfect pet!" you cry,
But there's one little thing,
One drawback to the bonny bird,—
Our Peepsy cannot sing.

He chirps no song at dawn or eve,
He makes no merry din;
But this one cannot wonder at,
For Peepsy's made of tin.

MAY SONG.

On a certain First of May,
So they say,
Came two merry little maids
Out to play.
Brown-haired Jeanie, sweet and wise,
Fair-haired Norah, with her eyes
Blue as are the morning skies.
Each in cap and kirtle gay,
Pretty little maids were they;
Light of heart and well content,
Through the fields they singing went,
On a merry First of May,
So they say.

On this merry First of May,
So they say,
Came two sturdy little lads
By that way.
Miller's Robin from the mill,
Shepherd's Johnnie from the hill;
Bonny little lads, I trow,
Sunny eyes and open brow,
Ruddy cheeks and curly hair,
Sturdy legs all brown and bare,
Through the fields they marched along,
Whistling each his cheery song,
On a merry First of May,
So they say.

On this merry First of May,
So they say,
Lads and lasses, there they met
On their way.
Said the lads, "We'll choose a queen!
May Day comes but once, I ween.
Search we all the country round,
Sweeter maids could not be found."
Laughed the lasses merrily,
"Ay! but which one shall it be?
John and Robin, tell us true,
Which is fairer of the two,
On this merry First of May?
Quickly say!"

On this merry First of May,
So they say,
Shepherd Johnnie hushed his whistle
Blithe and gay;
"Brown eyes are more fair," said he,
"For they shine so winsomely!"
"Nay!" quoth Robin, "'tis confessed
Blue eyes always are the best!
Fair-haired Norah wins the prize!"
"That she does not!" Johnnie cries;
"Norah's well enough, but Jean,
Brown and sweet, shall be the queen
On this merry First of May!
Choose my way!"

On this merry First of May,
So they say,
Soon to earnest turned their play.
Well-a-day!
Loud and angry words arose,
Angry words soon turned to blows;
John and Robin o'er the ground
Chase each other round and round,
Kicking, cuffing, here and there,
Shouting through the sweet May air:
"Jeanie!" "Norah!—is more fair!"
While the little maids aside,
Blue eyes, brown eyes, open wide
On this stormy First of May,
Well-a-day!

On this merry First of May,
So they say,
Jean and Norah stole away
From the fray.
"Silly lads!" they laughing cried,
"Let them as they will decide;
Shall we while they quarrel, pray,
Lose our pretty holiday?
Come away, and we may find
Other lads, who know their mind.
Or if not, why then, I ween,
Each will be the other's queen,
On this merry First of May.
Come away!"

TWO LITTLE VALENTINES.

[For two little girls.]

Young Rosalind, she is my rose!
I care not who the secret knows;
So deep within my heart she grows,
Her constant bloom no winter knows;
Sweet Rosalind, she is my rose.

Alas! this rose hath yet a thorn,
Whereon my heart is daily torn.
The love I proffer her each morn,
That love she flings me back in scorn.
But shall I therefore idly mourn?
She'd be no rose without the thorn.

II.

When the ivory lily darkens,
When the jealous rose turns pale,
Then I say, "My Julia's coming!
'Tis a sign will never fail."

When the bobolink is silent,
When the linnet stays her trill,
Then I say, "My Julia's singing!
At her voice the birds are still."

When I feel two velvet rose-leaves
Touch my eyes on either lid,
Then I say, "My Julia kissed me!"
And she answers, "Yes, me did!"

A HOWL ABOUT AN OWL.

It was an owl lived in an oak,
Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl!
He often smiled, but he seldom spoke,
And he wore a wig and a camlet cloak.
Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl!
Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

He fell in love with the chickadee,
Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl!
He askèd her, would she marry he,
And they'd go and live in Crim Tartaree.
Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl!
Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

"'Tis true," says he, "you are far from big."
Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl!
"But you'll look twice as well when I've bought you a wig,
And I'll teach you the Lancers and the Chorus Jig."
Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl!
Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

"I'll feed you with honey when the moon grows pale."
Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl!
"I'll hum you a hymn, and I'll sing you a scale,
Till you quiver with delight to the tip of your tail!"
Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl!
Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

So he went for to marry of the chickadee,
Sing heigh ho! the prowly owl!
But the sun was so bright that he could not see,
So he marrièd the hoppergrass instead of she.
And wasn't that a sad disappointment for he!
Sing heigh ho! the howly fowl!
Tu-whit! tu-whit! tu-whoo!

OUR CELEBRATION.

Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang!
Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang!
Popguns all a-snapping, and banners all a-flapping,—
Off go the fire-crackers, bang! bang! bang!

Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack!
Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack!
Fish-horns all a-tooting, and schoolboys all a-hooting,—
Off the torpedoes go, crack! crack! crack!

Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz!
Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz!
Pin-wheels all a-turning, and fingers all a-burning,—
Off go the fireworks, fizz! fizz! fizz!

Off goes our little Ned, boo-hoo-hoo!
Off goes our little Ned, boo-hoo-hoo!
Big hole in his jacket, and another in his pocket,
Half the hair singed off his head,
Off goes our little Ned,—
Mamma'll put him straight to bed, boo-hoo-hoo!

THE SONG OF THE CORN-POPPER.

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
Here am I, all ready to pop.
Girls and boys, the fire burns clear;
Gather about the chimney here.
Big ones, little ones, all in a row.
Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
Into the bowl the kernels drop.
Sharp and hard and yellow and small;
Must say they don't look good at all.
But wait till they burst into warm white snow!
Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
Don't fill me too full; shut down the top!
Rake out the coals in an even bed,
Topaz yellow and ruby red;
Shade your eyes from the fiery glow.
Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
Shake me steadily; do not stop!
Backward and forward, not up and down;
Don't let me drop, or you'll burn it brown.
Never too high and never too low.
Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
Now they are singing, and soon they'll hop.
Hi! the kernels begin to swell;
Ho! at last they are dancing well.
Puffs and fluffs of feathery snow,
Hop away! pop away! here we go!

Pip! pop! flippety flop!
All full, little ones? Time to stop!
Pour out the snowy, feathery mass;
Here is a treat for lad and lass.
Open your mouths now, all in a row;
Munch away! crunch away! here we go!

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