The Jumble Book of Rhymes / Recited by the Jumbler

So "Cleanliness is next to Godliness!"
It may be so; but really I confess
I'd let them go as black as night and look just like an awful fright—
Unless the Gold Dust Twins'd do the work.
What matter, pray, if streaks run 'round the neck
And dirt be under nails, about a peck?
I'd rather, oh, yes, quite, that they were black than white—
If I disturbed the town when bathing them.

Oh, run! Oh, mercy, run! you little children,
Just as fast and quickly as you can!
For here comes the Dirty-Neck Policeman,
And I'm sure I see the Black-Hand man.

So, scrub, scrub, scrub your little hannies,
And your necks, pray don't forget them, dears;
These men will surely get you if you're dirty;
They'll pay no attention to your tears.

The Dirty-neck Policeman he jes' grabs you,
And if he finds your neck's not clean and white,
He carries you away in spite of begging,
And keeps you from your mother all that night!

Next day his ugly wife gets soap and water,
And scrubs you with a great big curry-comb;
And if you cry she fills your mouth with soap-suds,
Till you promise you will keep clean when you get home.

The Black-hand Man keeps hidin' 'round the corner,
A-lookin' at your knuckles and your nails;
And if they're dirty he jes' rushes at you
And grabs you with a hook—he never fails!

And then he sits down on you when he's caught you,
Sandpapers you until you're bleedin', My!
And he jes' laughs and chuckles while he's working,
And rubs you all the harder if you cry!

So it's best to keep quite clean, or you'll be sorry;
You never know just when you may get caught;
The Dirty-neck Policeman's mighty watchful,
And the Black-hand Man's a-hidin' 'round a lot!

Come, bear with me, I'll tell to you
Of Big Black Bears with children two;
Of Father Bear, too ready to dare,
And Mother, and the cross she bare.
'Twas "Cinnabar" and "Blackberry" that Pa Bear his children named;
But simply "Bairns" was nicer far, the mother stoutly claimed.
A lively time these children had, of pleasures had no lack;
The thing that tickled them the most was bareback pick-a-pack.
This man Bear was, oh! so wicked and sly,
He'd steal and then tell you a barefaced lie;
The older he grew the more he would fight—
Stuck on himself 'cause he could read and write.

This Big Black Bear was a grouchy bear,
And a cross old bear was he;
He snapped and clawed and bristled and pawed
And growled ferociously!
This Big Black Bear broke open the door
And walked right into the groc'ry store;
He ate all the sugar, he ate all the ham,
And left not a cent for the groc'ryman.
He wrapped up honey and choice candies
And he then left a note: "Just charge 'em, please;
I'm gaunt and sore, I've come a distance,
And take enough for bare existence."

The grocer, next morn, collected some men
And tracked the foot-prints right up to the den;
The Cubs, when they came, were out all alone,
But raced through cubbyholes cut in the stone.
The Bears laid low, kept out of sight,
Cubs snuggled down like it was night.
"All right," said the men, "we'll sure get you yet!"
And then went to work a big trap to set.
They got it all fixed and placed on the ground,
And then lots of honey scattered around;
And then, lest some traveler its sight should miss,
They nailed up a sign that looked just like this:

As soon as they had gone quite a while
Old Pa Bear sneaked out, then called with a smile;
"Come out, hustle up, there's nothing to fear;
There's honey enough for all of us here!"
"To me," says Ma, "this thing spells ruin;
I feel that there is trouble brewin'!"
"Tut, tut!" says Pa, "just like a fool!
'Tis plain you never went to school.
If you could read you'd plainly see
That this was sent a gift to me.
'Bee-ware' is honey, surely you know;
And 'For-Bear' is what it says below.
Now cubbies, you see how much you need
To learn right soon to write and to read.
So study real hard, become a power—
A Cub reporter, some day, or maybe the bar."
"Dip in," said he, "la, la it's swell!"
And then let out an awful yell!!——
For the trap had sprung and caught him fair——
The fam'ly quickly ran to the lair.
Then ping!! crack!! crack!! a loud report!!
"All in!" cried they, "Oh, my, what sport!"
They skinned him and carried away the dead;
But not a pall-bearer once bared his head.
On this Bear's sad end the grocer oft does gloat—
What's now left of Pa is a big winter coat.
When the weather's cold (not immodest nor sin)
The Grocer comes forth just in his bear skin.
The Cubs, thus bereft, were frightened quite,
They sobbed and they cried with all of their might.
"Come, Bairns," said Ma, "let's off to the wood;
I'll get you a new pa who'll do as Bears should."
She did it and made a most excellent wife,
And all are now living the happiest life.