In My Nursery Part 15

And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can!

When he was cold he cried to be warm, And when he was warm he cried to be cold; And all the morning 'twas scold and storm, And all the evening 'twas storm and scold.

Stormy, oh!

And scoldy, oh!

And never do what he was toldy, oh!

And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can!

BOGY.

His eyes are green and his nose is brown, His feet go up and his head goes down, And so he goes galloping through the town, The king of the Hobbledygoblins.

His heels stick out and his toes stick in, He wears his mustaches upon his chin, And he glares about with a horrible grin, The king of the Hobbledygoblins.

No naughty boys can escape his eyes; He clutches them, 'spite of their tears and sighs, And away at a terrible pace he hies To his castle of Killemaneetem; There he shuts them up under lock and key, And feeds them on blacking and gra.s.shopper tea, And if ever they try to get out, you see, Why, this is the way he'll treat 'em.

[_Here Mamma may toss the little boy up in the air, or shake him, or tickle his little chin, whichever he likes best._]

Now, Johnny and Tommy, you'd better look out!

All day you've done nothing but quarrel and pout, And n.o.body knows what it's all about, But it gives me a great deal of pain, dears.

So, Johnny and Tommy, be good, I pray, Or the king will be after you some fine day, And off to his castle he'll whisk you away, And we never shall see you again, dears!

THE MERMAIDENS.

The little white mermaidens live in the sea, In a palace of silver and gold; And their neat little tails are all covered with scales, Most beautiful for to behold.

On wild white horses they ride, they ride, And in chairs of pink coral they sit; They swim all the night, with a smile of delight, And never feel tired a bit.

THE PHRISKY PHROG

Now list, oh! list to the piteous tale Of the Phrisky Phrog and the Sylvan Snayle; Of their lives and their loves, their joys and their woes, And all about them that any one knows.

The Phrog lived down in a grewsome bog, The Snayle in a hole in the end of a log; And they loved each other so fond and true, They didn't know what in the world to do.

For the Snayle declared 'twas too cold and damp For a lady to live in a grewsome swamp; While her lover replied, that a hole in a log Was no possible place for a Phrisky Phrog.

"Come down! come down, my beautiful Snayle!

With your helegant horns and your tremulous tail; Come down to my bower in the blossomy bog, And be happy with me," said the Phrisky Phrog.

"Come up, come up, to my home so sweet, Where there's plenty to drink, and the same to eat; Come up where the cabbages bloom in the vale, And be happy with me," said the Sylvan Snayle.

But he wouldn't come, and she wouldn't go, And so they could never be married, you know; Though they loved each other so fond and true, They didn't know what in the world to do.

THE AMBITIOUS CHICKEN.

It was an Easter chicken So blithesome and so gay; He peeped from out his plaster sh.e.l.l All on an Easter Day.

His wings were made of yellow down, His eyes were made of beads; He seemed, in very sooth, to have All that a chicken needs.

He winked and blinked and peeped about, And to himself he said, "When first a chicken leaves the sh.e.l.l, Of course he must be fed.

"And though I may be young in years, And this my natal morn, I'm quite, _quite_ old enough to know Where people keep the corn."

He winked and blinked and peeped about, Till in a corner sly He saw a heap of golden corn Piled on a platter high.

"Now, this is well!" the chicken cried; "Now, this is well, in sooth.

This corn shall nourish and sustain My faint and tender youth.

"And I shall grow and grow apace, And come to high estate, With mighty feathers in my tail, And combs upon my pate.

"To see my beauty and my grace The feathered race will flock, And all will bow them low before The mighty Easter c.o.c.k."

As thus the chicken proudly spake, And stooped to s.n.a.t.c.h the prize, His head fell off, and rolled away Before his very eyes!!!!

It rolled into the dish of corn, A sad and sombre sight, While still upon its plaster legs, His body stood upright.

And little Mary, when she came With s.h.i.+ning "popper" bright, To pop the corn, and make the b.a.l.l.s Which were her heart's delight,

Gazed at the dish with wide blue eyes, And "Oh! Mamma!" she said: "One piece has gone and _popped itself_ Into a chicken's head!"

THE BOY AND THE BROOK.

Said the boy to the brook that was rippling away, "Oh, little brook, pretty brook, will you not stay?

Oh, stay with me, play with me, all the day long, And sing in my ears your sweet murmuring song."

Said the brook to the boy as it hurried away, "And is't for my music you ask me to stay?

I was silent until from the hillside I gushed; Should I pause for an instant, my song would be hushed."

Said the boy to the wind that was fluttering past, "Oh, little wind, pretty wind, whither so fast?

Oh, stay with me, play with me, fan my hot brow, And ever breathe softly and gently as now."

Said the wind to the boy as it hurried away, "And is't for my coolness you ask me to stay?

'Tis only in flying you feel my cool breath; Should I pause for an instant, that instant were death."