In My Nursery Part 24

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He said, "You are doubtless right, Though drowning is not a becoming death For it makes one look like a fright.

If my lovely teeth be crockery, And my hair of Tyrian dye, Then life is a bitter mockery, And no more of it will I!"

The tale of the little Cossack,-- He drank of the stout so brown; Then put his toes in the water, And the fishes dragged him down.

And the people threw in his ha.s.sock And likewise his grandfather John; And there was an end of the family, On the banks of the river Don.

WHAT A VERY RUDE LITTLE BIRD SAID TO JOHNNY THIS MORNING.

Thing with two legs, out on the lawn!

Stupid old thing!

Why don't you fly, or hop at least?

Why don't you sing?

There you stand with your great long legs Stiff as a couple of giant pegs; Have you a nest with five blue eggs?

Have you _anything_?

Thing with two legs, out on the lawn!

Stubborn old thing!

Is that your only song, that harsh, Loud muttering?

Here! listen, and try to imitate me!

Chirr-a-wink! chirr-a-wink! pirrip-wip-wee!

It's just as easy as easy can be, Stubborn old thing!

Thing with two legs, out on the lawn!

Ugly old thing!

I hear my little brown wife in the nest Soft chirruping.

And if you think I've nothing else to do But stay here and talk to the like of you, You're greatly mistaken, I tell you true!

Good-by, old thing!

THE MONKEYS AND THE CROCODILE.

Five little monkeys Swinging from a tree; Teasing Uncle Crocodile, Merry as can be.

Swinging high, swinging low, Swinging left and right: "Dear Uncle Crocodile, Come and take a bite!"

Five little monkeys Swinging in the air; Heads up, tails up, Little do they care.

Swinging up, swinging down, Swinging far and near: "Poor Uncle Crocodile, Aren't you hungry, dear?"

Four little monkeys Sitting in the tree; Heads down, tails down, Dreary as can be.

Weeping loud, weeping low, Crying to each other: "Wicked Uncle Crocodile, To gobble up our brother!"

PAINTED LADIES

Oh, the pretty painted ladies!

Oh, the naughty painted ladies, That go running, climbing, running, All about my cottage door.

Would you have their story, Johnny?

Sit beside me, Sweet-and-bonny!

You shall hear a sadder story Than you ever beard before.

These were maidens fair and slender, Some with dove-eyes, brown and tender, Some with black, and some with blue eyes, Locks of auburn, locks of gold.

Rosy cheeks, and lips of cherry, Voices glad and laughter merry, Ever smiling, ever singing, Over gay and over bold.

And these maids were ever running, Watching going, watching coming, Asking questions of each other And of every one they knew.

Peeping, peeping, here and yonder, Ready still to guess and wonder, "Was it she?" "And did he do it?"

"Tell me quickly!" "Tell me true!"

Oh, the pretty painted ladies!

Oh, the naughty painted ladies!

When the king came riding, riding, For to seek him out a bride, How they whispered, how they chattered; Each herself in secret flattered She could win him, she could wed him, In an hour, if she tried.

So they prinked and pranked them gayly, So they crimped and curled them daily, Trying ring and trying jewel, All their beauty to complete.

Not content with Nature's roses, Fie! their cheeks are painted posies; And their lips are red and reddest, But alas! they are not sweet.

Then the king came riding stately, On his charger set sedately, With his golden robe about him, And his crown upon his head.

Oh! a royal port and presence, Meet for courtly love and pleasance; Happy, happy is the maiden He shall woo and he shall wed.

Oh, the pretty painted ladies!

Oh, the naughty painted ladies!

How they leaned from door and window, Flinging roses 'neath his feet; Silken robes and jewels shining, White arms waving, tossing, twining, Lips that laughed and eyes that languished, Over bold and over sweet.

But the king looked gravely on them; Cast no answering glance upon them; Coldly turned from where they waited In their beauty, in their pride.

"Find me out some modest maiden, Not with silks and jewels laden, One whose pureness, one whose sweetness Fit her for a royal bride."

Oh, the pretty painted ladies!

Oh, the naughty painted ladies!

Red with shame and white with anger, Back they pressed against the wall.

As they drew their silks around them, Lo! some sudden magic bound them, While they whispered, while they cl.u.s.tered, Into flowers changed them all.

Glowing cheek and snowy bosom Changed to white and ruddy blossom; Locks of gold and locks of auburn Into tendrils curling green.

While for silk and satin's shimmer, And for jewels' rainbow glimmer, Leaves that whispered, leaves that cl.u.s.tered,-- Only these were to be seen.

But the pretty painted ladies, But the naughty painted ladies, Still are running, climbing, running, At the window, at the door.

Peeping, peeping, here and yonder, "Is the story true?" you wonder; Sure, I heard it from themselves, dear, For they tell it o'er and o'er.

SOME FISHY NONSENSE.