A Nonsense Anthology Part 33

_R.L. Stevenson_.

MINNIE AND WINNIE

Minnie and Winnie Slept in a sh.e.l.l.

Sleep, little ladies!

And they slept well.

Pink was the sh.e.l.l within, Silver without; Sounds of the great sea Wandered about.

Sleep little ladies!

Wake not soon!

Echo on echo Dies to the moon.

Two bright stars Peep'd into the sh.e.l.l, What are they dreaming of?

Who can tell?

Started a green linnet Out of the croft; Wake, little ladies, The sun is aloft!

_Lord Tennyson_.

THE MAYOR OF SCUTTLETON

The Mayor of Scuttleton burned his nose Trying to warm his copper toes; He lost his money and spoiled his will By signing his name with an icicle quill; He went bareheaded, and held his breath, And frightened his grandame most to death; He loaded a shovel and tried to shoot, And killed the calf in the leg of his boot;

He melted a s...o...b..rd and formed the habit Of dancing jigs with a sad Welsh rabbit; He lived on taffy and taxed the town; And read his newspaper upside down; Then he sighed and hung his hat on a feather, And bade the townspeople come together; But the worst of it all was, n.o.body knew What the Mayor of Scuttleton next would do.

_Mary Mapes Dodge_.

THE PURPLE COW

I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one.

ENVOI

Ah yes, I wrote the Purple Cow, I'm sorry now I wrote it.

But I can tell you anyhow, I'll kill you if you quote it.

_Gelett Burgess_.

THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE

I'd Never Dare to Walk across A Bridge I Could Not See; For Quite afraid of Falling off, I fear that I Should Be!

_Gelett Burgess_.

THE LAZY ROOF

The Roof it has a Lazy Time A-lying in the Sun; The Walls they have to Hold Him Up; They do Not Have Much Fun!

_Gelett Burgess_.

MY FEET

My feet, they haul me Round the House, They Hoist me up the Stairs; I only have to Steer them and They Ride me Everywheres.

_Gelett Burgess_.

THE HEN

Alas! my Child, where is the Pen That can do Justice to the Hen?

Like Royalty, She goes her way, Laying foundations every day, Though not for Public Buildings, yet For Custard, Cake and Omelette.

Or if too Old for such a use They have their Fling at some Abuse, As when to Censure Plays Unfit Upon the Stage they make a Hit, Or at elections Seal the Fate Of an Obnoxious Candidate.

No wonder, Child, we prize the Hen, Whose Egg is Mightier than the Pen.

_Oliver Herford_.

THE COW

The Cow is too well known, I fear, To need an introduction here.

If She should vanish from earth's face It would be hard to fill her place; For with the Cow would disappear So much that every one holds Dear.

Oh, think of all the Boots and Shoes, Milk Punches, Gladstone Bags and Stews, And Things too numerous to count, Of which, my child, she is the Fount.

Let's hope, at least, the Fount may last Until _our_ Generation's past.