The Jingle Book

Nursey declares I really must
Throw one of you away;
And you’re the oldest, so I trust
You will not care to stay.

You’ve lost an arm, your dress is torn,
Your wig is all awry;
Priscilla, you are so forlorn,
We’ll have to say good-by.

And yet—oh, don’t! my dolly dear,
Don’t look so sad, I pray!
You precious dolly, come right here,
You shan’t be thrown away!

You’re ragged, yes, and lame and blind,
You’re really but a wreck;
But, dear Priscilla, never mind,
I do not care a speck.

Your eyes do nicely when they’re shut,
And I can mend the rest;
Well—p’raps I’ll love the new one—but
I’ll always love you best.

Bobby’s Pocket

Our Bobby is a little boy, of six years old, or so;
And every kind of rubbish in his pocket he will stow.

One day he thought he’d empty it (so he again could stock it);
And here’s an alphabet of what was found in Bobby’s pocket.

A was a rosy Apple, with some bites out, here and there;
B was a bouncing rubber Ball that bounded in the air.

C was a crispy crusty Cake with citron on the top;
D was a dancing Donkey that could jump around and hop.

E was a little robin’s Egg, all speckled blue and brown;
F was a fluffy Feather that was white and soft as down.

G was a lively Grasshopper, whose legs and wings were green;
H was a grimy Handkerchief that once perhaps was clean.

I was a plaster Image that had lost its plaster head;
J was a jolly Jumping-Jack all painted blue and red.

K was a keen and shining Knife, ’twould cut the toughest bark;
L was a little wooden Lion, strayed out of Noah’s Ark.

M was a Marble, large and round, with colors bright and clear;
N was a bent and rusty Nail, of little use, I fear.

O was a tiny Oil-can, which was always upside down;
P was a Penny Bob had saved to spend some day in town.

Q was a Quilted ear-tab, which had lost its velvet mate;
R was a Ring with a glassy gem of wondrous size and weight.

S was a String, a piece of Soap, a Stone, a Sponge, a Stick;
T was a lump of Taffy, exceeding soft and thick.

U, an Umbrella-handle, of silver-mounted horn;
V was a comic Valentine, a little creased and worn.

W was some sticky Wax, lovely to pinch and mould;
X was an old Xpress receipt, worn out in every fold.

Y was a lot of Yellow Yarn, all bunched up like a mop;
Z was a jagged piece of Zinc, found in a plumber’s shop.

All these are Bob’s possessions; he loves every single thing;
And owning all these treasures he’s as happy as a King!

The Instructiphone

There was a youthful genius once, a boy of thirteen years,
Named Cyrus Franklin Edison Lavoisier De Squeers.
To study he was not inclined, for fun he had a bent;
But there was just one article he wanted to invent.

“It’s a sort of a contraption which will work itself,” he said,
“And, without studying, will put my lessons in my head.”
He thought and puzzled o’er his plan, he worked with might and main
To utilize the wondrous schemes within his fertile brain:

Until at last the thing was done, and to his friends said he:
“It is the wonder of the age! Success I can foresee!
My great invention is complete, and—’tis no idle vaunt—
I’m sure that my Instructiphone will fill a long-felt want.

“The action is quite simple—I will try to make it clear:
This funnel-shaped receiver I apply to my left ear;
Then in this hopper I will put whate’er I wish to learn—
A page of history or of Greek,—and then this crank I’ll turn.

“The topic goes into this tube, a sort of phonograph
Which acts directly on my mind,—it does, you needn’t laugh!