Across the sands of Syria,
Or, possibly, Algeria,
Or some benighted neighbourhood of barrenness and drouth,
There came the prophet Sam-u-el
Upon the only Cam-u-el --
A bumpy, grumpy Quadruped of discontented mouth.
The atmosphere was glutinous;
The Cam-u-el was mutinous;
He dumped the pack from off his back; with horrid grunts
and squeals
He made the desert hideous;
With strategy perfidious
He tied his neck in curlicues, he kicked his paddy heels,
Then quoth the gentle Sam-u-el,
"You rogue, I ought to lam you well!
Though zealously I've shielded you from every grief and woe,
It seems, to voice a platitude,
You haven't any gratitude.
I'd like to know what cause you have for doing thus and so!"
To him replied the Cam-u-el,
"I beg your pardon, Sam-u-el,
I know that I'm a Reprobate, I know that I'm a Freak;
But oh! this utter loneliness!
My too distinguished Onliness!
Were there but other Cam-u-els I wouldn't be Unique."
The Prophet beamed beguilingly.
"Aha," he answered smilingly,
"You feel the need of company? I clearly understand.
We'll speedily create for you
The corresponding mate for you --
Ho! presto, change-o, dinglebat! -- " -- he waved a potent
hand.
And, lo! from out Vacuity
A second Incongruity,
To wit, a Lady Cam-u-el was born through magic art.
Her structure anatomical,
Her form and face were comical;
She was, in short, a Cam-u-el, the other's counterpart.
As Spaniards gaze on Aragon,
Upon that Female Paragon
So gazed the Prophet's Cam-u-el, that primal Desert ship.
A connoisseur meticulous,
He found her that ridiculous.
He grinned from ear to auricle until he split his lip!
Because of his temerity
That Cam-u-el's posterity
Must wear divided upper lips through all their solemn lives!
A prodigy astonishing
Reproachfully admonishing
Those wicked, heartless married men who ridicule their
wives.
Hamlet:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, -- to sleep, --
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; -- to sleep; --
To sleep! Perchance to dream! Ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his queitus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sickled o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
T. S. Eliot
M A C A V I T Y: T H E M Y S T E R Y C A T
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw --
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's
despair,
For when they reach the scene of crime -- Macavity's not
there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime -- Macavity's not
there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the
air --
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken
in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly
domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like
a snake,
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the
square --
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards).
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland
Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past
repair --
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose plans and drawnings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the
stair --
But it's useless to investigate -- Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service
say,
"It must have been Macavity! -- " -- but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his
thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place -- MACAVITY WASN'T
THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are
widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations -- the Napoleon of Crime!
The Peace -- Pipe.
On the mountains of the prairie,
On the great red pipe -- stone quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty
He the master of life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry
Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Song of Hiawatha)
... the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn away
And lose the name of action.
The Planets.
The Moon is made of silver,
The Sun is made of gold,
And Jupiter is made of tin,
So the ancients told.
Venus is made of copper,
Saturn is made of lead,
And Mars is made of iron,
So the ancients said.
But what the Earth was made of
Very long ago
The ancients never told us
Because they didn't Єnow.
Eleanor Farjeon.
D. F. Alderson
L I N E S O N M O N T E Z U M A
MEXICAN LEGEND BY PASSMAN
Montezuma
Met a puma
Coming through the rye:
Montezuma made the puma
Into apple pie.
Invitation
To the nation
Everyone to come.
Montezuma
And the puma
Give a kettle-drum.
Acceptation
Of the nation
One and one invited.
Montezuma --
And the puma
Equally delighted.
Preparation,
Ostenation,
Dresses rich prepared:
Feathers -- jewels --
Work in crewels --
No expenses spared.
Congregation
Of the nation
Round the palace wall.
Awful rumour
That the puma
Won't be served to all.
Deputation
From the nation,
Audience they gain.
"What's this rumour?
Montezuma,
If you please, explain."
Montezuma
(Playful humour
very well sustained)
Answers, "Piedish
As it's my dish,
Is for me retained."
Exclamation!
Indignation!
Feeling running high.
Montezuma
Joins the puma
In the apple pie.
Twinkle, Twinkle, little star.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upone,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle all the night.
Then the traveller in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark:
How could he see where to go,
If you did not twinkle so?
In the dark blue sky you keep,
Often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Ann and Jane Taylor.
L E A R
T H E B R O O M, T H E S H O V E L,
T H E P O K E R,
A N D T H E T O N G S
I
The Broom and the Shovel, thn Poker and Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
And they each sang a song, Ding-a-dong, Ding-a-dong,
Before they went back in the dark.
Mr. Poker he sate quite upright in the coach,
Mr. Tongs made a clatter and slash,
Miss Shovel was dressed all in black (with a brooch),
Mrs. Broom was in blue (with a sash).
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
And they all sang a song!
I I
"O Shovely so lovely! "The Poker he sang,
"You have perfectly conquered my heart!
"Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong! If you're pleased with my
song,
"I will feed you with cold apple tart!
"When you scrape up the coals with a delicate sound,
"You enrapture my life with delight!
"You nose is so shiny! Your head is so round!
"And your shape is so slender and bright!
"Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
"Ain't you pleased with my song?"
I I I
"Alas! Mrs. Broom!" Sighed the Tongs in his song,
"O is it because I'm so thin,
"And my legs are so long -- Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
"That you don't care about me a pin?
"Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,
"Ah! why don't you heed my complaint!
"Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,
"Because you are covered with paint?
"Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
"You are certainly wrong!"
I V
Mrs. Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,
"What nonsense you're singing to-day!"
Said the Shovel, "I'll certainly hit you a band!"
Said the Broom, "And I'll sweep you away!"
So the Coachman drove homeward as fast as he could,
Perceiving their anger with pain;
But they put on the kettle, and little by little,
They all became happy again.
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
There's an end of my song.
Edward Lear
M R. A N D M R S. D I S C O B B O L O S
First Part
I
Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Climbed to the top of a wall.
And they sate to watch the sunset sky
And to hear the Nupiter Puffkin cry
And the Biscuit Buffalo call.
They took up a roll and some Camomile tea,
And both were as happy as happy could be --
Till Mrs. Discobbolos said,
" Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
" It has just come into my head
"Suppose we should happen to fall!!!!!
"Darling Mr. Discobbolos!
I I
"Suppose we should fall down flumpetty
"Just like pieces of stone!
"On to the thorns, -- or into the moat!
"What would become of your new green coat?
"And might you not break a bone?
"It never occured to me before
"That perhaps we shall never go down any more!"
And Mrs. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"What put it into your head
"To climb up this wall? -- my own
"Darling Mr. Discobbolos?"
I I I
Mr. Discobbolos answered,
"At first it gave me pain, --
"And I felt my ears turn perfectly pink
"When your exclamation made me think
"We might never get down again!
"But now I believe it is wiser far
"To remain for ever just where we are."
And Mr. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"It has just come into my head --
"We shall never go down again,
"Dearest Mrs. Discobbolos!"
I V
So Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Stood up, and began to sing,
"Far away from hurry and strife
"Here we will pass the rest of life,
"Ding a dong, ding dong, ding!
"We want no knives nor forks nor chairs,
"No tables nor carpets nor household cares,
"From worry of life we've fled --
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"There is no more trouble ahead,
"Sorrow or any such thing --
"For Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos!"
Second Part
I
Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Lived on the top of the wall
For twenty years, a month and a day, --
Till their hair had grown all pearly grey,
And their teeth began to fall.
They never were ill, or at all dejected,
By all admired, and by some respected,
Till Mrs. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"It has just come into my head --
"We have have no more room at all
"Darling Mr. Discobbolos!
I I
"Look at our six fine boys!
"And our six sweet girls so fair!
"Upon this wall they have all been born,
"And not one of the twelve has happened to fall
"Through my maternal care!
"Surely they should not pass their lives
"Without any chance of husbands or wives!"
And Mrs. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"Did it never come into your head
"That our lives must be lived elsewhere,
"Dearest Mr. Discobbolos?"
I I I
"They have never been at a ball,
"Nor have even seen a bazaar!
"Nor have heard folks say in a tone all hearty,
"'What loves of girls (at a garden party)
"Those Misses Discobbolos are!
"Morning and night it drives me wild
"To think of the fate of each darling child!"
But Mr. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"What has come to your fiddledum head!
"What a runcible goose you are!
"Octopod Mrs. Discobbolos!"
I V
Suddenly Mr. Discobbolos
Slid from the top of the wall;
And beneath it he dug a dreadful trench,
And filled it with dynamite, gunpowder gench,
And aloud he began to call --
"Let the wild bee sing,
"And the blue bird hum!
"For the end of your lives has certainly come!
And Mrs. Discobbolos said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"We shall presently all be dead,
"On this ancient rucible wall,
"Terrible Mr. Discobbolos!"
V
Pensively, Mr. Discobbolos
Sat with his back to the wall;
He lighted a match, and fired the train,
And the mortified mountain echoed again
To the sound of an awful fall!
And all the Discobbolos family flew
In thousands of bits to the sky so blue,
And no one was left to have said,
"Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
"Has it come into anyone's head
"That the end has happened to all
"Of the whole of the Clan Discobbolos?"
T H E D U C K A N D T H E K A N G A R O O
I
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo,
"Good gracios! How you hop!
Over the fields and the water too,
As if you never would stop!
My life is a bore in this nasty pond,
And I long to go out in the world beyond!
I wish I could hop like you!"
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
II
"Please give me a ride on your back!"
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
"I would sit quite still, and say nothing but
'Quack',
The whole of the long day through!
And we'd go to the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee,
Over the land, and over the sea; --
Please take me a ride! O do!"
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
III
Said the Kangaroo to the Duck,
"This requires some little reflection;
Perhaps on the whole it might bring me luck,
And there seems but one objection,
Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold,
Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold,
And would probably give me the roo
Matiz!" Said the Kangaroo.
IV
Said the Duck, "As I sate on the rocks,
"I have thought over that completely,
And I bought four pairs of worsted socks
Which fit my web-feet neatly.
And to keep out the cold I've bought a cloak,
And every day a cigar I'll smoke,
All to follow my own dear true
Love of Kangaroo!"
V
Said the Kangaroo, "I'm ready!
All in the moonlight pale;
But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady!
And quite at the end of my tail!"
So away they went with a hop and a bound,
And they hopped the whole world three times round
And who so happy, - O who,
As the Duck and the Kangaroo?
THE QUANGLE WANGLE'S HAT
I
On the top of the Crumpetty Tree
The Quangle Wangle sat,
But his face you could not see,
On account of his Beaver Hat.
For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and bibbons on every side,
And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,
So that nobody ever could see the face
Of the Qangle Wangle Quee.
II
The Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, --
"Jam; and jelly; and bread;
"Are the best of food for me!
"But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree
"The plainer than ever it seems to me
"That very few people come this way
"And that life on the whole is far from gay!"
Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.
III
But there came to the Crumpetty Tree,
Mr. and Mrs. Canary;
And they said, "Did ever you see
"Any spot so charmingly airy?
"May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?
"Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
"O please let us come and build a nest
"Of whatever material suits you best,
"Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!"
IV
And besides, to the Crumpetty Tree
Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;
The Snail, and the Bumble-Bee,
The Frog, and the Fimble Fowl;
(The Fimble Fowl, with a Corkscrew leg);
And all of them said, "We humbly beg,
"We may build our homes on your lovely Hat,
"Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
"Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!"
V
And the Golden Groose came there, --
And the Pobble who has no toes, --
And the small Olympian bear, --
And the Dong with a luminous nose.
And the Blue Baboon, who played the flute, --
And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute, --
And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat, --
All came and built on the lovely Hat
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
VI
And the Quange Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, --
"When all these creatures move,
"What a wonderful noise there'll be!"
And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon
They danced to the Flute of the Blue Baboon,
On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree,
And all were as happy as happy could be,
With the Quangle Wangle Quee.
THE JUMBLIES.
Edward Lear.
They went to sea in a sieve, they did.
In a Sieve they went to sea.
In spite of all their friends cold say
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day
In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round
And every one cried: "You'll be drowned!"
They called aloud: "Our Sieve ain't big,
But we don't care a button! We don't care a fig!
In a Sieve we'll go to sea!"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where ihe Jumblies live.
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
They sailed away in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they sailed so fast
With only a beautiful pea-green veil
Tied with a riband by way of a sail
To a small tobacco-pipe mast.
And every one said, who saw them go,
"O, won't they be soon upset, you know!
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long.
aAd happen what may, it's extremely wrong
In a Sieve to sail so fast!"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live.
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
The water it soon came in, it did,
The water it soon came in
So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat
And they fastened it down with a pin.
And they passed the night in a crockery jar
And each of them said: "How wise we are!
Though the sky be dark and the voyage be long
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong
While round in our sieve we spin"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live.
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
And all night long they sailed away
And when the sun went down
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong
In the shade of a mountains brown.
"O timballo! how happy we are
When we live in a Sieve and a crockery jar
And all night long in the moonlight pale
We sail along with a pea-green sail
In the shade of the montains brown!"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live.
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
They sailed to the western sea, they did,
To a land all covered with trees
And they bought an owl and a useful cart
And a pound of rice end a cranberry tart
And a hieve of silvery bees.
And they bought a pig, and some green jack daws,
And a lovely monkey with lollipop paws
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree
And no end of stilton cheese.
Far and few, far and few,
aAe the lands where the Jumblies live.
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
And in twenty years they all come back
In twenty years or more
And every one said: "How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the lakes and the terrible zone
And the hills of the chankly bore".
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast.
And every one said: "If we only live
We too will go to sea in a sieve, --
To the hills of the chankly bore"!
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live.
Their neads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
T H E D A D D Y L O N G - L E G S
A N D T H E F L Y
I
Once Mr. Daddy Long-legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a summer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr. Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledoor.
I I
Said Mr. Daddy Long-legs
To Mr. Floppy Fly,
"Why do you never come to court?
I wish you'd tell me why.
All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
You'd quite delight the court.
Why do you never go at all?
I really think you o u g h t!
And if you went, you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! And jugs! And candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!"
I I I
"O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,"
Said Mr. Floppy Fly,
"It's true I never go to court,
And I will tell you why.
If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But oh! I can't, because m y legs
Are so extremely short.
And I'm afraid the King and Queen
(One in red, and one in green)
Would say aloud, 'You are not fit,
You Fly, to come to court a bit!"
I V
"O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,"
Said Mr. Floppy Fly,
"I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
In former days gone by,
But now you never sing at all;
I wish you'd tell me why:
For if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the crabs would gladly come
To hear your sing, 'Ah, Hum di Hum'!"
V
Said Mr. Daddy Long-legs,
"I can never sing again!
And if you wish, I'll tell you why,
Although it gives me pain.
For years I cannot hum a bit,
Or sing the smallest song;
And this the dreadful reason is,
My legs are grown too long!
My six long legs, all here and there,
Oppress my bosom with despair;
And if I stand, or lie, or sit,
I cannot sing one single bit!"
V I
So Mr. Daddy Long-legs
And Mr. Floppy Fly
Sat down in silence by the sea,
And gazed upon the sky.
They said, "This is a dreadful thing!
The world has all gone wrong,
Since one has legs too short by half,
The other much too long!
One never more can go to court,
Because his legs have grown too short;
The other cannot sing a song,
Because his legs gave grown too long!"
V I I
Then Mr. Daddy Long-legs
And Mr. Floppy Fly
Rushed downward to the foamy sea
With one sponge-taneous cry;
And there they found a little boat,
Whose sails were pink and grey;
And off they sailed among the wawes,
Far, and far away.
They sailed across the silent main,
And reached the great Gromboolian plain;
And there they play for evermore
At battlecock and shuttledoor.
T H E T A B L E A N D T H E C H A I R
I
Said the Table to the Chair,
"You can hardly be aware,
"How I suffer from the heat,
"And from chilblains on my feet!
"If we took a little walk,
"We might have a little talk!
"Pray let us take the air!"
Said the Table to the Chair.
I I
Said the Chair to the Table,
"Now you k n o w we are not able!
"How foolishly you talk,
"When you know we c a n n o t walk!"
Said the Table, with a sigh,
"It can do no harm to try,
"I've as many legs as you,
"Why can't we walk on two?"
I I I
So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound,
As they toddled round and round.
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to their side,
"See! The Table and the Chair
"Have come out to take the air!"
I V
But in going down an alley,
To a castle in a valley,
They completely lost their way,
And wandered all the day,
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky -- quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
V
Then they whispered to each other,
"O delightful little brother!
"What a lovely walk we've taken!
"Let us dine on Beans and Bacon!"
So the Ducky, and the leetle
Browny -- Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads,
Till they toddled to their beds.
T H E C O U R T S H I P O F T H E
Y O N G H Y - B O N G H Y - B O
I
On the Coast of Coromandel,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Two old chairs, and half a candle, --
One old jug without the handle, --
These were all his wordly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the wordly goods
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
I I
Once, among the Bong-trees walking,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-while Hens of Dorking, --
"'Tis the Lady Jingly Jones!
"On that little heap of stones
"Sits the Lady Jingly Jones! -- " --
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
I I I
"Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
"Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
"Will you come and be my wife? -- " --
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"I am tired of living singly, --
"On this coast so wild and shingly, --
"I'm a-weary of my life:
"If you'll come and be my wife,
"Quite serene would be my life! -- " --
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
I V
"On this Coast of Coromandel,
"Shrimps and watercresses grow,
"Prawns are plentiful and cheap,"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"You shall have my chairs and candle,
"And my jug without a handle! --
"Gaze upon the rolling deep
"(Fish is plentiful and cheap),
"As the sea, my love is deep! -- " --
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
V
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began to flow, --
"Your proposal comes too late,
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"I would be you wife most gladly! -- " --
(Here she twirled her fingers madly),
"But in England I've a mate!
"Yes! You've asked me far too late,
"For in England I've a mate,
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!"
V I
"Mr. Jones (his name is Handel, --
"Handel Jones, Esquire, and Co.)
"Dorking fowls delights to send,
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle,
"And your jug without a handle, --
"I can merely be your friend! --
" -- Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
"I will give you three, my friend!
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!"
V I I
"Though you've such a tiny body,
"And your head so large doth grow, --
"Though your hat may blow away,
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy,
"Yet I wish that I could modi-
"-fy the words I needs must say!
"Will you please to go away?
"That is all I have to say,
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!"
V I I I
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There, beyond the bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle:
"You're the Cove," he said, "for me
"On your back beyond the sea,
"Turtle, you shall carry me!"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
I X
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle swiftly go;
Holding fast upon his shell
Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primaeval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell,
"Lady Jingly Jones, farewell! -- " --
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
X
From the Coast of Coromandel,
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle,
Still she weeps, and daily moans,
On that little heap of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
L E W I S
T H E A K O N D O F S W A T
Who or why, or which, or w h a t
Is the Akond of SWAT?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa, or chair, or SQUAT?
The Akond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold, or HOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk?
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk, or TROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat, or a COT,
The Akond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's with a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge, or smear, or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, or tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe, or a
DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave, or a GROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? Or a glass? Or a cup? Or a mug? Or a POT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends, or a KNOT
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes, or NOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody knows I wot
Who or which, or why, or what
Is the Akond of Swat!
Jabberwocky
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock!
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabious day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK
AN AGONY IN EIGHT FITS
Fit the First
THE LANDING
"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
"Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just a place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three times is true."
The crew was complete: it included the Boots --
The Maker of Bonnets and Hoods --
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes --
And a Broker, to value their goods.
A Billiard-Marker, whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his share --
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.
There was also a Beaver, that paced on the desk,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.
There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.
He had forty two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.
The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pairs of boots -- but the worst of it was
He had wholly forgotten his name.
He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But expecially "Thing-um-a-jig!"
While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him "Candle-ends",
And his enemies "Toasted cheese".
"His form is ungainly -- his intellect small" --
(So the Bellman would often remark)
"But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark".
He would joke with hyaenas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of the head:
And he once went a walk, paw in paw with a bear,
"Just to keep up its spirits," -- he said.
He came as a Baker: but owned when too late --
And it drove the poor Bellman half-mad --
He could only bake bridecake -- for which, I may state,
No materials were to be had.
The last of the crew needs especial remark,
Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one idea -- but, that one being "Snark",
The good Bellman engaged him at once.
He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too frightened to speak:
But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was only one Beaver on board;
And this was a tame one he had of his own,
Whose death would be deeply deplored.
The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal surprise!
He strongly advised that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
With the plans he had made for the trip:
Navigation was always a difficult art,
Though with only one ship and one bell:
Anh he feared he must really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as well.
The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure
A second-hand dagger-proof coat --
So the Baker advised it -- and next, to insure
Its life in some Office of note:
This the Banker suggested and offered for hire
(On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent policies, one Against Fire
And one Against Damage From Hail.
Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way
And appeared unaccountably shy.
Fit the Second
THE BELLMAN'S SPEECH
The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies --
Such a carriage, such ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,
The moment one looked in his face.
He had bought a large map representing the sea,
Without the least vestige of land:
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
A map they could all understand.
"What's the good of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,
Tropics, Zones and Meridian Lines?"
So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply,
"They are merely conventional signs!
"Other map are such shapes, with their islands and Capes!
But we've got out brave Captain to thank"
(So the crew would protest) "that he's bought us the best --
A perfect and absolute blank!"
That was charming, no doubt: but they shortly found out
That the Captain they trusted so well
Had only one notion for crossing the ocean,
And that was to tingle his bell.
He was thoughtful and grave -- but the orders he gave
Were enough to bewilder a crew.
When he cried, "Steer to starboard,but keep her head
larboard!"
What on Earth was the helmsman to do?
Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in tropical climes,
When a vessel is, so to speak, "snarked".
But the principal failing occured in the sailing,
And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,
That the ship would not travel due West!
But the danger was past -- they had landed at last,
With their boxes, portmanteaus and bags:
But at first sight the crew was not pleased with the view,
Which consisted of chasms and crags.
The Bellman perceived that their spirits were low,
And repeated in musical tone
Some jokes he had kept for the season of woe --
But the crew would do nothing but groan.
He served out some grog with a liberal hand,
And bade them sit down on the beach:
And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,
As he stood and delivered his speech.
"Friends, Romans and countrymen, lend me your ears!"
(They were all of them fond of quotations:
So they drank to his health and gave him three cheers
While he served out additional rations.)
"We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,
(Four weeks to the month, you may mark),
But never as yet ('tis your Captain who speaks)
Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!
"We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days
(Seven days to the week I allow),
But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,
We have never beheld till now!
"Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
The five unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
The warranted genuine Snarks.
"Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
With a flavour of Will-o'-the-wisp.
"Its habit of getting up late you'll agree
That it carries too far, when I say
That it frequently breakfests at five-o'clock tea,
And dines on the following day.
"The third is its slowness in taking a jest,
Should you happen to venture on one,
It will sigh like a thing that is deeply distressed
And it always looks grave at a pun.
"The fourth is its fondness of bathing-mashines,
Which it constantly carries about,
And believs that thay add to the beauty of scenes --
A sentiment open to doubt.
"The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
To describe each particular batch;
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
From those that have whiskers, and scratch.
"For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet, I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums" -- The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.
Fit the third
THE BAKER'S TALE
They roused him with muffins -- they roused him with ice --
They roused him with mustard and cress --
They roused him with jam and judicious advice --
They set him conundrums to guess.
When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"
And excitedly tingled his bell.
There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.
"My father and mother were honest, though poor -- "
"Skip all that!" cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark --
We have hardly a minute to waste!"
"I skip forty years," said the Baker in tears,
"And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.
"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell -- "
"Oh, skip your dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.
"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,
"If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means -- you may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.
"You may seek it with thimbles -- and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap -- "
"That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parentheses cried;
"That's exactly the way, I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!"
"'But, oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again! '
"It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,
When I think of my uncle's last words:
And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
Brimming over with quivering curds!
"It is this,it is this -- " "We have had that before!"
The Bellman indignantly said.
And the Baker replied, "Let me say it once more
It is this, it is this that I dread!
"I engage with the Snark -- every night after dark --
In a dreamy delirious fight:
I serve it with greens in a shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking the light;
"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I as sure),
I shall softly and suddenly vanish away --
And the notion I cannot endure!"
Fit the fourth
THE HUNTING
The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
"If only you'd spoken before!
It's excessevely awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!
"We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe,
If you never were met with again --
But surely, my man, when the voyage began,
You might have suggested it then?
"It excessively awkward to mention it now --
As I think I've already remarked."
And the man they called "Hi!" replied, with a sigh,
"I informed you the day we embarked.
"You may charge me with murder -- or want of sense --
(We are all of us weak at times):
But the slightest approach of a false pretence
Was never among my crimes!
"I said it in Hebrew -- I said it in Dutch --
I said it in German and Greek --
But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)
That English is what you speak!"
"'Tis a pitiful tale," said the Bellman, whose face
Had grown longer at every word;
"But, now that you've stated the whole of your case,
More debate would be simply absurd.
"The rest of my speech" (he explained to his men)
"You shall hear when I've leisure to speak it.
But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again,
'Tis your glorious duty to seek it!
"To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;
To pursue it with forks and hope;
To threaten its life with a railway-share;
To charm it with smiles and soap!
"For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't
Be caught in a commonplace way.
Do all what you know, and try all that you don't:
Not a chance must be wasted to-day!
"For England expects -- I forbear to proceed:
'Tis a maxim tremendous, but trite:
And you'd best be unpacking the things that you need
To rig youselves out for the the fight."
Thus the Banker endorsed a blank cheque (which he crossed),
And changed his loose silver for notes:
The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hare,
And shook the dust out of his coats.
The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spade --
Each working a grindstone in turn;
But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed
No interest in the concern:
Though the Barrister tried to appeal to its pride,
And vainly proceeded to cite
A number of cases, in which making laces
Had been proved an infringement of right.
The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned
A novel arrangement of bowls:
While a Billiard -- Marker with quivering hand
Was chalking the tip of his nose.
But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,
With yellow kid gloves and a ruff --
Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,
Which the Bellman declared was all "stuff".
"Introduce me, Now there's a good fellow," he said,
"If we happen to meet it together!"
And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,
Said, "That must depend of the weather."
The Beaver went simply galumphing about,
At seeng the Butcher so shy:
And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,
Made an effort to wink with one eye.
"Be a man!" said the Bellman in wrath, as he heared
The Butcher beginning to sob.
"Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,
We shall need all our strength for the job!"
Fit the fifth
THE BEAVER'S LESSON
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They sought it with forks and hope;
They threatened it's life with a railway-share;
They charm it with the smiles and soap.
Ther the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan
For making a separate sally;
And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,
A dismal and desperate valley.
But the very same plan to the Beaver occured:
It has chosen the very same place:
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,
The disgust that appeared in his face.
Each thought he was thinking of nothing but "Snark"
And the glorious work of the day;
And each tried to pretend that he did not remark
That the other was going that way.
But the valley grew narrow and narrower still,
And the evening got darker and colder,
Till (merely of the nervousness, not from goodwill)
They marched along shoulder to shoulder.
Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,
And they knew that some danger was near:
The Beaver turned pale to the tip of his tail,
And even the Butcher felt queer.
He thought of his childhood, left far far behind --
That blissful and innocent state --
The sound so exactly recalled to his mind
A pencil that squeaks on a slate!
"'Tis the voice of the Jubjub!" he suddenly cried.
(This man, that they used to call "Dunce".)
"As the Bellman would tell you," he added with pride,
I have uttered this sentiment once.
"'Tis the note of a Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat;
You will find I have told it you twice.
'Tis the song of a Jubjub! The proof is complete,
If only I've stated it thrice."
The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care,
Attending to every word:
But it fairly lost heart and outgrabe in despair,
When the third repetition occured.
It felt that, in spite of all possible pains,
It has somehow contrieved to lose count,
And the only thing now was to rack its poor brains
By reckoning up the amount.
"Two added to one -- if that could but be done,"
It said, "with one's fingers and thumbs!"
Recollecting with tears how, in earlier years,
It had taken no pains with its sums.
"The thing can be done," said the Butcher, "I think.
The thing must be done, I am sure.
The thing shall be done! Bring me paper and ink,
The best there is time to procure."
The Beaver brought paper, portfolio, pens,
And ink in unfailing cupplies:
While strange creepy creatures came out of their dens,
And watched them with wondering eyes.
So engrossed was the Butcher, he heeded them not,
As he wrote with a pen in each hand,
And explained all the while in a popular stile
Which the Beaver could well understand.
"Taking Three as the subject to reason about --
A convenient number to state --
We add Seven and Ten, and then multiply out
By One Thousand diminished by Eight.
"The result we proceed to divide, as you see,
By Nine Hundred and Ninety and Two:
Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be
Exactly and perfectly true.
"The method employed I would gladly explain,
While I have it so clear in my head,
If I had but the time and you had but the brain --
But much yet remains to be said.
"In one moment I've seen what was hitherto been
Enveloped in absolute mistery,
And without extra charge I will give you at large
A Lesson in Natural History."
In his genial way he proceeded to say
(Forgetting all laws of propriety,
And that giving instructions, without introduction,
Would have caused quite a thrill in Society).
"As to temper the Jubjub's a desperate bird,
Since it lives in perpetual passion;
Its taste in costume is entirely absurd --
It is ages ahead of the fashion:
"But it knows any friend it has met once before:
It never will look at a bribe:
And in charity-meetings it stands at the door,
And collects -- though it doesn't subscribe.
"Its flavour when cooked is more exquisite far
Then mutton, or oysters, or eggs.
(Some think it keeps best in an ivory jar,
And some, in mahogany kegs.)
"You boil it in sawdust: you salt it in glue:
You condence it with locust and tape:
Still keeping one principal object in view --
To preserve its symmetrical shape."
The Butcher would gladly have talked till next day,
But he felt that the Lesson must end,
And he wept with delight in attempting to say
He considered the Beaver his friend.
While the Beaver confessed, with affectionate looks
More eloquent even then tears,
It had learnt in ten minutes far more then all books
Would have taught it in seventy ears.
They returned hand-in-hand, and the Bellman, unmanned
(For a moment) with noble emotion,
Said "this amply repays all the wearisome days
They have spent on the billowy ocean!"
Such friends, as the Beaver and Butcher became,
Have seldom if ever been known;
In winter or summer, 'twas allways the same --
You could never meet either alone.
And when quarrels arose -- as one frequently finds
Quarrels will, spite of every endeavour --
The song of the Jubjub recalled to their minds,
And cemented their friendschip forever!
Fit the sixth.
THE BARRISTER'S DREAM
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
Then a Barrister, weary of proving in vain
That the Beaver's lace-making was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in dreams saw the creature quite plain
That his fancy has dwelt on so long.
He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands and wig was defending a pig
On the charge of deserting its sty.
The Witnesses proved, without error or flaw,
That the sty was deserxed, when found:
And the Judge kept explaining the state of the law
In a soft under-current of sound.
The indictment had never been clearly expressed,
And it seemed that the Snark had begun,
And had spoken three hours, before any one guessed
What the pig was supposed to have done.
The Jury had each formed a different view
(Long before the indictment was read),
And they all spoke at once, so that none of them knew
The word that the others had said.
"You must know -- " said the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed,
"Fudge!
That statute is obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my friends, the whole question depends
On an ancient manorial right.
"In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but scarcely abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea "never indebted".
"The fact of Desertion I will not dispute:
But its guilt, as I trust, is removed
(So far as relates to the cost of this suit)
By the Aliby which has been proved.
"My poor client's fate now depends on you votes."
Here the speaker sat down in the place,
And directed the Judge to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up the case.
But the Judge said he never had summed up before;
So the Snark undertook it instead,
And summed it so well that it came to far more
Than the Witnesses ever had said!
When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
As the word was so puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn't mind
Undertaking that duty as well.
So the Snark found the verdict, although, as it owned,
It was spent by the toils of the day:
When it said the word "GUILTY!" the Jury all groaned,
And some of them fainted away.
Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
Too nervous to utter a word:
When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,
And the fall of a pin might be heard.
"Transportation for life" was the sentence it gave,
"And t h e n to be fined forty pound."
The Jury all cheered, though the Judge said he feared
The phrase was not legally sound.
But their wild exultation was suddenly checked
When the jailer informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would have not the slightest effect,
As the pig had been dead for some years.
The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted:
But the Snark, though a little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom the defence was intrusted,
Went bellowing on to the last.
Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
To grow every moment more clear:
Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,
Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.
Fit the seventh
THE BANKER'S FATE
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened it's life with the railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
Then the Banker, inspired with a courage so new
It was matter for general remark,
Rushen madly ahead and was lost to their view
In his zeal to discover the Snark.
But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.
He offered large discount -- he offered a cheque
(Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck
And grabbed at the Banker again.
Without rest or pause -- while those frumious jaws
Went savagely snappind around --
He skipped and he hopped and he floundered and flopped,
Till fainting he fell to the ground.
The Bandersnach fled as the others appeared:
Led on by that fear-striked yell:
And the Bellman remarked, "It is just as I feared!"
And solemnly tolled on his bell.
He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likenes to what he had been:
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned
white --
A wonderful thing to be seen!
To the horror of all who were present that day,
He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say
What his tongue could not longer express.
Down he sank in a chair -- ran his hands through his hair --
And chanted in mimsiest tones
Words whose utter unanity proved his insanity,
While he rattled a couple of bones.
"Leave him here for his fate -- it is getting so late!"
The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.
"We have lost half the day. Any further delay,
And we shan't catch a Snark before night!"
Fit the eighth
THE VANISHING
They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,
And the Beaver, excited at last,
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,
For the daylight was nearly past.
"There is Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said,
"He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He had certainly found a Snark!"
They gased in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed,
"He was always a desperate wag!"
They beheld him -- the Baker -- their hero unnamed --
On the top of the neighbouring crag,
Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.
In the the next, that wild figure they saw
(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,
While they waited and listened in awe.
"It's a Snark!" was the sound that first came to their
ears,
And seemed almost too good to be true.
Thef follewed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words, "It's a Boo -- "
Then, silence. Some fancied that they heared in the air
A weary and wandering sigh
That sounded like " -- jum!" but the others declare
It was only a breeze that went by.
They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
Not a button, or feather, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.
In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee
He had softly and suddenly vanish away --
For the Snark w a s a Boojum, you see.