The Jingle Book

a drowsy monotone.

He leaned back on the cushions like that night
he had the croup;
His head began to wobble and his eyes began
to droop;
He closed them for a minute, just to see how
it would seem,
And straightway he was sound asleep, and dreamed this awful dream!

He thought he saw a garden filled with flowers and roses gay,
A great big gardener with a hoe came walking down his way;
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed the gardener, as he clutched him by the head,
“Here’s a fine specimen I’ve found; I’ll plant him in this bed!”

He held the boy in one big hand, unheeding how he cried,
And with the other dug a hole enormous, deep, and wide.
He jammed the little fellow in, and said in gruffest tone,
“This is the bed for naughty boys who won’t go to their own.”
And then the dirt was shovelled in,—it covered up his toes,
His ankles, knees, and waist and arms, and higher yet it rose.
For still the gardener shovelled on, not noticing his cries;
It came up to his chin and mouth—it almost reached his eyes;
Just then he gathered all his strength and gave an awful scream,
And woke himself, and put an end to that terrific dream.
And he said, as Nursey tucked him up and bade him snugly rest,
“When I am planted in a bed, I like my own the best.”

The Rivals

Two well-built men, neither giant nor dwarf,
Were Monsieur Elims and Mynheer Nworf.
They lived in a town not far away,
And spent their time in work and play.
Now Monsieur Elims was loved by all—
By rich and poor, by great and small.
And Mynheer Nworf remarked one day,
“Brother, explain to me, I pray,
Why no one likes me as well as you,
No matter what I may say or do.
I have stores of knowledge packed in my head;
I am learned and wise and very well read;
I can dance, I can sing, I’m extremely polite;
I am worth a large fortune all in my own right.
But still,—and this question has caused me much thought,—
While I am neglected, you’re everywhere sought.”
Monsieur Elims replied: “My dear sir, that is true,
But you see, I am I, and you see, you are you.
If I receive praises and you receive blame,
’Tis doubtless because each lives up to his name.”

You’ll find his defence rather puzzling, I fear;
But read their names backward—the meaning is clear.

The New Cup

“I’ve a lovely new cup from Uncle John,”
Said Dorothy; “only see—
It has beautiful golden letters on,
And they spell ‘Remember Me.’”

“Oho!” laughed Fred. “Why, Dorothy dear,
They put that on mugs and plates:
I’ve studied jography ’most a year,
And I know the names of the States.

And when you see that anywhere,—
At least, since this fuss with Spain,—
It’s the President who puts it there,
And it means ‘Remember the Maine’!”

A Photographic Failure

Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle
Saw a patient Periwinkle
With a kodak, sitting idly by a rill.
Feeling a desire awaken
For to have his picture taken,
Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle stood stock-still.

Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle
Felt his brow begin to wrinkle,
And his pose assume a sad and solemn style;
But the Periwinkle trusted,
As the focus he adjusted,
That his customer would kindly try to smile.

Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle
Felt his eyes begin to twinkle,
And his mouth took on a broad and open grin;
Said the Periwinkle, sadly,
“If you stretch your jaw so madly,
I fear perhaps that I shall tumble in.”

Mr. Hezekiah Hinkle
Felt his hair begin to crinkle,
As it rose up on his forehead in affright;
Though his comrade spoke so mildly,
Mr. Hinkle wondered wildly,
How he could escape this dire and awful plight.