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[Illustration: "And sing to the praise of the Doll"]
_CHILDREN'S CRIMSON SERIES_
PINAFORE PALACE
BY
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
AND
NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1907, by The McClure Company_
* * * * *
PREFACE
TO THE MOTHER
_"A Court as of angels,
A public not to be bribed,
Not to be entreated,
Not to be overawed."_
_Such is the audience--in long clothes or short frocks, in pinafores
or kilts, or in the brief trousers that bespeak the budding man--such
is the crowing, laughing court, the toddling public that awaits these
verses._
_Every home, large or small, poor or rich, that has a child in it, is
a Pinafore Palace, and we have borrowed the phrase from one of
childhood's most whimsical and devoted poets-laureate, thinking no
other words would so well express our meaning._
_If the two main divisions of the book--"The Royal Baby" and "Little
Prince and Princess"--should seem to you a trifle sentimental it will
be because you forget for the moment the gayety and humor of the
title with its delightful assumptions of regal dignity and state.
Granted the Palace itself, everything else falls easily into line, and
if you cannot readily concede the royal birth and bearing of your
neighbor's child you will see nothing strange in thinking of your own
nursling as little prince or princess, and so you will be able to
accept gracefully the sobriquet of Queen Mother, which is yours by the
same invincible logic!_
_Oh, yes, we allow that instead of being gravely editorial in our
attitude, we have played with the title, as well as with all the
sub-titles and classifications, feeling that it was the next
pleasantest thing to playing with the babies themselves. It was so
delightful to re-read the well-loved rhymes of our own childhood and
try to find others worthy to put beside them; so delicious to imagine
the hundreds of young mothers who would meet their old favorites in
these particular pages; and so inspiring to think of the thousands of
new babies whose first hearing of nursery classics would be associated
with this red-covered volume, that we found ourselves in a joyous mood
which we hope will be contagious. Nothing is surer than that a certain
gayety of heart and mind constitute the most wholesome climate for
young children. "The baby whose mother has not charmed him in his
cradle with rhyme and song has no enchanting dreams; he is not gay and
he will never be a great musician," so runs the old Swiss saying._
_Youthful mothers, beautifully and properly serious about their
strange new duties and responsibilities, need not fear that Mother
Goose is anything but healthful nonsense. She holds a place all her
own, and the years that have rolled over her head (some of the rhymes
going back to the sixteenth century) only give her a firmer footing
among the immortals. There are no real substitutes for her unique
rhymes, neither can they be added to nor imitated; for the world
nowadays is seemingly too sophisticated to frame just this sort of
merry, light-hearted, irresponsible verse which has mellowed with the
years. "These ancient rhymes," says Andrew Lang, "are smooth stones
from the brook of time, worn round by constant friction of tongues
long silent."_
_Nor is your use of this "light literature of the infant scholar" in
the nursery without purpose or value. You are developing ear, mind,
and heart, and laying a foundation for a later love of the best things
in poetry. Whatever else we may do or leave undone, if we wish to
widen the spiritual horizon of our children let us not close the
windows on the emotional and imaginative sides. "There is in every one
of us a poet whom the man has outlived." Do not let the poetic
instinct die of inanition; keep it alive in the child by feeding his
youthful ardor, strengthening his insight, guarding the sensitiveness
and delicacy of his early impressions, and cherishing the fancies that
are indeed "the trailing clouds of glory" he brings with him "from God
who is his home."_
_The rhythm of verse will charm his senses even in his baby days;
later on he will feel the beauty of some exquisite lyric phrase as
keenly as you do, for the ear will have been opened and will be
satisfied only with what is finest and best._
_The second division of the book "Little Prince and Princess" will
take the children out of the nursery into the garden, the farmyard,
and the world outside the Palace, where they will meet and play with
their fellows in an ever-widening circle of social activity. "Baby's
Hush-a-byes" in cradle or mother's lap will now give place to the
quiet cribside talks called "The Palace Bed Time" and "The Queen
Mother's Counsel"; and in the story hour "The Palace Jest-Book" will
furnish merriment for the youngsters who laughed the year before over
the simpler nonsense of Mother Goose._
_When the pinafores themselves are cast aside Pinafore Palace will be
outgrown, and you can find something better suited to the developing
requirements of the nursery folk in "The Posy Ring." Then the third
volume in our series--"Golden Numbers"--will give boys and girls from
ten to fifteen a taste of all the best and soundest poetry suitable to
their age, and after that they may enter on their full birthright,
"the rich deposit of the centuries."_
_No greater love for a task nor happiness in doing it, no more ardent
wish to please a child or meet a mother's need, ever went into a book
than have been wrought into this volume and its three predecessors. We
hope that it will find its way into the nurseries where wealth has
provided every means of ministering to the young child's growth in
body, mind, and soul; and if some of the Pinafore Palaces should be
neat little kitchens, what joy it would be to think of certain young
queen-mothers taking a breath between tasks to sit by the fire and
read to their royal babies while the bread is baking, the kettle
boiling, or the potatoes bubbling in the pot._
_"Where does Pinafore Palace stand?
Right in the middle of Lilliput Land."_
_And Lilliput Land is (or ought to be) the freeest country in the
universe. Its shining gates open wide at dawn, closing only at sunset,
and toddling pilgrims with eager faces enter and wander about at will.
Decked in velvet or clad in rags the friendly porter pays no heed, for
the pinafores hide all class distinctions._
_"We're bound for Pinafore Palace, sir,"
They say to the smiling gatekeeper.
"Do we need, if you please, an entrance ticket
Before we pass through your magic wicket?"
"Oh, no, little Prince and Princess dear,
All pinafores freely enter here!"_
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN.
* * * * *
_ACKNOWLEDGMENTS are herewith made to the following publishers for
permission to include in this volume selections from their copyrighted
publications:_
_Houghton, Mifflin & Co.: "A Dewdrop" and "Bees," from Little Folk
Lyrics, by Frank Dempster Sherman; "The Brown Thrush," from Childhood
Songs, by Lucy Larcom; "Bossy and Daisy," from The Old Garden, by
Margaret Deland; "Lost," from Poems for Children, by Celia Thaxter;
"Clothes," "A Music Box," and "Learning to Play," from A Pocketful of
Posies, by Abbie Farwell Brown._
_Lothrop, Lee & Shepard: "How they Sleep" and "The Darling Birds,"
from Babyland; "Follow Me," "Annie's Garden," "Good Mooly Cow," "The
New Moon," "Do You Guess it is I," and "Baby's Birthday," from Little
Songs, by Eliza Lee Follen; "Who Likes the Rain" and "Spring
Questions," by Clara Doty Bates; and five poems by Emilie Poulsson as
follows: "Chickens in Trouble" (Translated from the Norwegian) and "A
Puppy's Problem," from Through the Farmyard Gate; "The Story of Baby's
Blanket," "The Story of Baby's Pillow," and "Baby's Breakfast," from
Child Stories and Rhymes._
_Little, Brown & Company: "The Owl, the Eel and the Warming Pan" and
"The Difference," from Sundown Songs, by Laura E. Richards_.
_Milton Bradley Company: "The Five Little Fairies," "The Pigeons,"
"The Barnyard," from Rhymes for Little Hands, by Maud Burnham._
_New England Publishing Company: "Our Mother," from the American
Primary Teacher._
_Small, Maynard & Company: "Hospitality," "The Child's Star," "Foot
Soldiers," from Child Verse, by John B. Tabb._
_The Outlook: "Baby's Journey," by Mary F. Butts._
_And our thanks and tribute to the shade of "Mother Goose," beloved
nurse of all who lisp the English tongue._
* * * * *
CONTENTS
_PART I_
THE ROYAL BABY
PAGE
I. BABY'S PLAYS 3
II. BABY'S HUSH-A-BYES 15
III. BABY'S JOURNEYS 21
IV. BABY'S FRIENDS 29
V. NURSERY HEROES AND HEROINES 39
VI. NURSERY NONSENSE 47
VII. NURSERY NOVELS 67
VIII. GUESS-ME-QUICKS 93
IX. GRANDMOTHER'S WISDOM 101
_PART II_
LITTLE PRINCE AND PRINCESS
I. THE PALACE PLAYTIME 111
II. THE PALACE GARDEN 125
III. THE PALACE PETS 159
IV. THE PALACE JEST-BOOK 173
V. THE QUEEN-MOTHER'S COUNSEL 205
VI. THE PALACE BED-TIME 219
* * * * *
PUBLIC NOTICE.--_This is to state,
That these are the specimens left at the gate
Of Pinafore Palace, exact to date,
In the hands of the porter, Curlypate,
Who sits in his plush on a chair of state,
By somebody who is a candidate
For the Office of Lilliput Laureate._
_William Brighty Rands._
* * * * *
_PART I_
THE ROYAL BABY
I
BABY'S PLAYS
Brow bender,
Eye peeper,
Nose smeller,
Mouth eater,
Chin chopper.
Knock at the door--peep in,
Lift up the latch--walk in.
Eye winker,
Tom Tinker,
Nose smeller,
Mouth eater,
Chin chopper,
Chin chopper.
Here sits the Lord Mayor,
Here sit his two men,
Here sits the cock,
And here sits the hen;
Here sit the chickens,
And here they go in,
Chippety, chippety, chippety chin.
Ring the bell!
Knock at the door!
Lift up the latch!
Walk in!
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man!
So I do, master, as fast as I can:
Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T,
Put it in the oven for Tommy and me.
Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot,
Nine days old.
Some like it hot,
Some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot,
Nine days old.
Pat it, kiss it,
Stroke it, bless it;
Three days' sunshine, three days' rain,
Little hand all well again.
Warm, hands, warm, daddy's gone to plough;
If you want to warm hands, warm hands now.
Clap, clap handies,
Mammie's wee, wee ain;
Clap, clap handies,
Daddie's comin' hame;
Hame till his bonny wee bit laddie;
Clap, clap handies,
My wee, wee ain.
This little pig went to market;
This little pig stayed at home;
This little pig had roast beef;
This little pig had none;
This little pig said, "Wee, wee!
I can't find my way home."
Shoe the horse, and shoe the mare;
But let the little colt go bare.
_Foot Soldiers_
'Tis all the way to Toe-town,
Beyond the Knee-high hill,
That Baby has to travel down
To see the soldiers drill.
One, two, three, four, five, a-row--
A captain and his men--
And on the other side, you know,
Are six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
John B. Tabb.
How many days has my baby to play?
Saturday, Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, Sunday, Monday.
Dance to your daddy,
My little babby;
Dance to your daddy,
My little lamb.
You shall have a fishy,
In a little dishy;
You shall have a fishy
When the boat comes in.
_One, Two_
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Knock at the door;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Lay them straight;
Nine, ten,
A good fat hen;
Eleven, twelve,
Let them delve;
Thirteen, fourteen,
Maids a-courting;
Fifteen, sixteen,
Maids in the kitchen;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Maids a-waiting;
Nineteen, twenty,
My plate's empty.
Merry are the bells, and merry would they ring;
Merry was myself, and merry could I sing;
With a merry ding-dong, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry sing-song, happy let us be!
Merry have we met, and merry have we been;
Merry let us part, and merry meet again;
With our merry sing-song, happy, gay, and free,
And a merry ding-dong, happy let us be!
Bow-wow-wow!
Whose dog art thou?
Little Tom Tinker's dog,
Bow-wow-wow!
Blow, wind, blow! and go, mill, go!
That the miller may grind his corn;
That the baker may take it,
And into rolls make it,
And send us some hot in the morn.
_The Difference_
Eight fingers,
Ten toes,
Two eyes,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the rose,
"Oh! what a pity
I've only one nose!"
Ten teeth
In even rows,
Three dimples,
And one nose.
Baby said
When she smelt the snuff,
"Deary me!
One nose is enough."
Laura E. Richards.
_The Five Little Fairies_
_Finger-Play_
Said this little fairy,
"I'm as thirsty as can be!"
Said this little fairy,
"I'm hungry, too! dear me!"
Said this little fairy,
"Who'll tell us where to go?"
Said this little fairy,
"I'm sure that I don't know!"
Said this little fairy,
"Let's brew some Dew-drop Tea!"
So they sipped it and ate honey
Beneath the maple tree.
Maud Burnham.
_The Pigeons_
Ten snowy white pigeons are standing in line,
On the roof of the barn in the warm sunshine.
Ten snowy white pigeons fly down to the ground,
To eat of the grain that is thrown all around.
Ten snowy white pigeons soon flutter aloof,
And sit in a line on the ridge of the roof.
Ten pigeons are saying politely, "Thank you!"
If you listen, you hear their gentle "Coo-roo!"
Maud Burnham.
_The Barnyard_
When the Farmer's day is done,
In the barnyard, ev'ry one,
Beast and bird politely say,
"Thank you for my food to-day."
The cow says, "Moo!"
The pigeon, "Coo!"
The sheep says, "Baa!"
The lamb says, "Maa!"
The hen, "Cluck! Cluck!"
"Quack!" says the duck;
The dog, "Bow Wow!"
The cat, "Meow!"
The horse says, "Neigh!
I love sweet hay!"
The pig near by,
Grunts in his sty.
When the barn is locked up tight,
Then the Farmer says, "Good-night!"
Thanks his animals, ev'ry one,
For the work that has been done.
Maud Burnham.
II
BABY'S HUSH-A-BYES
Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
Down will come baby, bough, cradle, and all.
Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman, mother's a Queen;
Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring;
And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the King.
Bye, baby bunting,
Daddy's gone a-hunting,
To get a little rabbit-skin,
To wrap his baby bunting in.
Hush thee, my babby,
Lie still with thy daddy,
Thy mammy has gone to the mill,
To grind thee some wheat
To make thee some meat,
And so, my dear babby, lie still.
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thy father watches the sheep;
Thy mother is shaking the dream-land tree,
And down falls a little dream on thee:
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep!
The large stars are the sheep,
The wee stars are the lambs, I guess,
The fair moon is the shepherdess:
Sleep, baby, sleep!
From the German.
When little Birdie bye-bye goes,
Quiet as mice in churches,
He puts his head where no-one knows,
On one leg he perches.
When little Babie bye-bye goes,
On Mother's arm reposing,
Soon he lies beneath the clothes,
Safe in the cradle dozing.
When pretty Pussy goes to sleep,
Tail and nose together,
Then little mice around her creep,
Lightly as a feather.
When little Babie goes to sleep,
And he is very near us,
Then on tip-toe softly creep,
That Babie may not hear us.
Lullaby! Lullaby! Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby!
Unknown.
III
BABY'S JOURNEYS
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see an old lady upon a white horse,
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes.
She shall have music wherever she goes.
This is the way the ladies ride;
Tri, tre, tre, tree,
Tri, tre, tre, tree!
This is the way the ladies ride,
Tri, tre, tre, tre, tri-tre-tre-tree!
This is the way the gentlemen ride;
Gallop-a-trot,
Gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Gallop-a-gallop-a-trot!
This is the way the farmers ride;
Hobbledy-hoy,
Hobbledy-hoy!
This is the way the farmers ride,
Hobbledy, hobbledy-hoy!
Ride, baby, ride,
Pretty baby shall ride,
And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side,
And a little pussy-cat tied to the other,
And away she shall ride
To see her grandmother,
To see her grandmother,
To see her grandmother in London town.
See-saw sacradown,
Which is the way to London town?
One foot up, the other foot down,
That is the way to London town.
To market, to market,
To buy a plum bun;
Home again, home again,
Market is done.
Dance, little baby, dance up high,
Never mind, baby, mother is by;
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There, little baby, there you go;
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Backwards and forwards, round and round;
Dance, little baby, and mother will sing,
With the merry chorus, ding, ding, ding!
A farmer went trotting
Upon his gray mare;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
With his daughter behind him,
So rosy and fair;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried "Croak";
And they all tumbled down;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
The mare broke her knees,
And the farmer his crown;
Lumpety, lumpety, lump.
The mischievous raven
Flew laughing away;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
And vowed he would serve them
The same the next day;
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
Hey, my kitten, my kitten,
And hey, my kitten, my deary!
Such a sweet pet as this
Was neither far nor neary.
Here we go up, up, up,
And here we go down, down, downy;
And here we go backwards and forwards,
And here we go round, round, roundy.
Hey diddle, dinkety, poppety, pet,
The merchants of London they wear scarlet;
Silk in the collar and gold in the hem,
So merrily march the merchantmen.
_Rhymes About a Little Woman_
This is the way the ladies ride--
Saddle-a-side, saddle-a-side!
This is the way the gentlemen ride--
Sitting astride, sitting astride!
This is the way the grandmothers ride--
Bundled and tied, bundled and tied!
This is the way the babykins ride--
Snuggled inside, snuggled inside!
This is the way when they are late,
They _all_ fly over a five-barred gate.
William Canton.
Every evening Baby goes
Trot, trot, to town--
Across the river, through the fields,
Up hill and down.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
To buy a woolen gown.
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The birds fly down, alack!
"You cannot have our feathers, dear,"
They say; "so please trot back."
Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The lambs come bleating near.
"You cannot have our wool," they say;
"But we are sorry, dear."
Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Trot, trot, to town.
She buys a red rose for her hat,
She buys a cotton gown.
Mary F. Butts.
IV
BABY'S FRIENDS
Mary had a pretty bird,
Feathers bright and yellow,
Slender legs; upon my word,
He was a pretty fellow.
The sweetest notes he always sang,
Which much delighted Mary;
And near the cage she'd often sit,
To hear her own Canary.
Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,
Thy house is on fire, thy children all gone:
All but one whose name is Ann,
And she crept under the pudding-pan.
There was a little nobby colt,
His name was Nobby Gray;
His head was made of pouce straw,
His tail was made of hay.
He could ramble, he could trot,
He could carry a mustard-pot
Round the town of Woodstock,
Hey, Jenny, hey!
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will the robin do then,
Poor thing?
He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing!
I had a little pony,
His name was Dapple-gray,
I lent him to a lady,
To ride a mile away;
She whipped him, she lashed him,
She rode him through the mire;
I would not lend my pony now
For all the lady's hire.
I had a little doggy that used to sit and beg;
But Doggy tumbled down the stairs and broke his little leg.
Oh! Doggy, I will nurse you, and try to make you well,
And you shall have a collar with a little silver bell.
Ah! Doggy, don't you think you should very faithful be,
For having such a loving friend to comfort you as me?
And when your leg is better, and you can run and play,
We'll have a scamper in the fields and see them making hay.
But, Doggy, you must promise (and mind your word you keep)
Not once to tease the little lambs, or run among the sheep;
And then the little yellow chicks that play upon the grass,
You must not even wag your tail to scare them as you pass.
Pussy sits beside the fire--
How can she be fair?
In comes little puppy-dog:
"Pussy, are you there?
So, so, Mistress Pussy,
Pray how do you do?"
"Thank you, thank you, little dog,
I'm very well just now."
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full:
One for my master,
One for my dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives in the lane.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
Where have you been?
I've been to London
To look at the Queen
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
What did you there?
I frightened a little mouse
Under her chair.
Six little mice sat down to spin.
Pussy passed by, and she peeped in.
"What are you at, my little men?"
"Making coats for gentlemen."
"Shall I come in and bite off your threads?"
"No, no, Miss Pussy, you'll snip off our heads."
"Oh, no, I'll not, I'll help you to spin."
"That may be so, but you don't come in!"
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
Up went pussy-cat, and down went he;
Down came pussy-cat, and away Robin ran;
Said little Robin Redbreast, "Catch me if you can."
Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall,
Pussy-cat jumped after him, and almost got a fall;
Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did pussy say?
Pussy-cat said naught but "Mew," and Robin flew away.
Cushy, cow bonny, let down thy milk,
And I will give thee a gown of silk:
A gown of silk and a silver tee,
If thou wilt let down thy milk to me.
Betty Pringle had a little pig,
Not very little and not very big,
When he was alive he lived in clover,
But now he's dead, and that's all over.
So Billy Pringle he lay down and cried,
And Betty Pringle she lay down and died;
So there was an end of one, two, and three:
Billy Pringle he,
Betty Pringle she,
And the piggy wigg_ee_.
Come hither, sweet Robin,
And be not afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come hither, sweet Robin,
And pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.
I don't mean to frighten you,
Poor little thing,
And pussy-cat is not behind me;
So hop about pretty,
And drop down your wing,
And pick up some crumbs, and don't mind me.
_Baby's Breakfast_
Baby wants his breakfast,
Oh! what shall I do?
Said the cow, "I'll give him
Nice fresh milk--moo-_oo_!"
Said the hen "Cut-_dah_ cut!
I have laid an egg
For the Baby's breakfast--
Take it now, I beg!"
And the buzzing bee said,
"Here is honey sweet.
Don't you think the Baby
Would like that to eat?"
Then the baker kindly
Brought the Baby's bread.
"Breakfast is all ready,"
Baby's mother said;
"But before the Baby
Eats his dainty food,
Will he not say 'Thank you!'
To his friends so good?"
Then the bonny Baby
Laughed and laughed away.
That was all the "Thank you"
He knew how to say.
Emilie Poulsson.
V
NURSERY HEROES AND HEROINES
Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,
Silver buckles on his knee;
He'll come back and marry me,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.
Bobby Shaftoe's fat and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair;
He's my love for evermair,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.
Tom, he was a piper's son,
He learned to play when he was young,
And all the tune that he could play
Was, "Over the hills and far away,"
Over the hills, and a great way off,
The wind will blow my top-knot off.
Now, Tom with his pipe made such a noise
That he well pleased both the girls and boys,
And they always stopped to hear him play
"Over the hills and far away."
Jack Horner
Jack Horner was a pretty lad,
Near London he did dwell;
His father's heart he made full glad,
His mother loved him well.
While little Jack was sweet and young,
If he by chance should cry,
His mother pretty sonnets sung,
With a lul-la-lul-la-by,
With such a dainty curious tone,
As Jack sat on her knee,
That soon, ere he could go alone,
He sang as well as she.
A pretty boy of curious wit,
All people spoke his praise,
And in the corner he would sit
In Christmas holidays.
When friends they did together meet,
To pass away the time--
Why, little Jack, be sure, would eat
His Christmas pie in rhyme.
He said, "Jack Horner, in the corner,
Eats good Christmas pie,
And with his thumbs pulls out the plums,
And says, 'Good boy am I!'"
Little Tom Tucker
Sings for his supper;
What shall he eat?
White bread and butter.
How shall he cut it
Without e'er a knife?
How shall he be married
Without e'er a wife?
Simple Simon met a pieman,
Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Let me taste your ware."
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first your penny."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Indeed I have not any."
Simple Simon went a-fishing
For to catch a whale;
But all the water he could find
Was in his mother's pail!
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down, and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
Up Jack got and home did trot
As fast as he could caper;
Went to bed to mend his head
With vinegar and brown paper.
Jill came in and she did grin,
To see his paper plaster.
Mother, vexed, did whip her next,
For causing Jack's disaster.
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.
Where's the boy that looks after the sheep?
He's under the haycock, fast asleep.
Little Miss Muffet,
She sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a great spider,
And sat down beside her,
Which frightened Miss Muffet away.
Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
But never a penny was there in't
Except the binding round it.
My maid Mary
She minds her dairy,
While I go a-hoeing and mowing each morn.
Merrily run the reel
And the little spinning-wheel
While I am singing and mowing my corn.
Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
They were two bonny lasses:
They built their house upon the lea,
And covered it with rushes.
Bessy kept the garden gate,
And Mary kept the pantry;
Bessy always had to wait,
While Mary lived in plenty.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With cockle-shells and silver bells
And pretty girls all of a-row.
Curly Locks! Curly Locks! wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet feed the swine,
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feast upon strawberries, sugar, and cream!
Old King Cole
Was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler he had a fine fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
"Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee," went the fiddlers.
Oh, there's none so rare,
As can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.
There was an old woman went up in a basket
Seventy times as high as the moon;
And where she was going, I could not but ask it,
For under her arm she carried a broom.
"Old woman, old woman, old woman," said I,
"Whither, O whither, O whither so high?"
"I'm sweeping the cobwebs off the sky!"
"Shall I go with thee?" "Ay, by and by."
VI
NURSERY NONSENSE
Old Mother Goose, when
She wanted to wander,
Would ride through the air
On a very fine gander.
Mother Goose had a house,
'T was built in a wood,
Where an owl at the door
For sentinel stood.
She had a son Jack,
A plain-looking lad;
He was not very good,
Nor yet very bad.
She sent him to market,
A live goose he bought:
"Here! mother," says he,
"It will not go for nought."
Jack's goose and her gander
Grew very fond;
They'd both eat together,
Or swim in one pond.
Jack found one morning,
As I have been told,
His goose had laid him
An egg of pure gold.
Jack rode to his mother,
The news for to tell.
She called him a good boy,
And said it was well.
Goosey, goosey, gander,
Where shall I wander?
Upstairs, downstairs,
And in my lady's chamber.
There I met an old man
Who would not say his prayers;
I took him by the left leg,
And threw him downstairs.
I'll tell you a story
About Mary Morey,
And now my story's begun.
I'll tell you another
About her brother,
And now my story's done.
The lion and the unicorn
Were fighting for the crown;
The lion beat the unicorn
All round about the town.
Some gave them white bread,
Some gave them brown,
Some gave them plum-cake,
And sent them out of town.
Three wise men of Gotham,
Went to sea in a bowl;
If the bowl had been stronger,
My song had been longer.
There was a crooked man,
And he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence
Upon a crooked stile:
He bought a crooked cat,
That caught a crooked mouse--
And they all lived together
In a little crooked house.
Pussicat, wussicat, with a white foot,
When is your wedding? for I'll come to't.
The beer's to brew, the bread's to bake,
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, don't be too late.
There was a man in our town,
And he was wondrous wise,
He jumped into a bramble bush,
And scratched out both his eyes;
But when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main,
He jumped into another bush,
And scratched 'em in again.
Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday.
Buried on Sunday,
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy!
Hey! diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
While the dish ran away with the spoon.
What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails;
And that's what little boys are made of, made of.
What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and all that's nice;
And that's what little girls are made of, made of.
"Come hither, little puppy-dog,
I'll give you a new collar,
If you will learn to read your book,
And be a clever scholar."
"No! no!" replied the puppy-dog,
"I've other fish to fry;
For I must learn to guard your house,
And bark when thieves come nigh."
With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.
"Come hither, pretty cockatoo,
Come and learn your letters;
And you shall have a knife and fork
To eat with, like your betters."
"No! no!" the cockatoo replied,
"My beak will do as well;
I'd rather eat my victuals thus
Than go and learn to spell."
With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.
"Come hither, little pussy-cat,
If you'll your grammar study,
I'll give you silver clogs to wear,
Whene'er the gutter's muddy."
"No! whilst I grammar learn," says puss,
"Your house will in a trice
Be overrun from top to toe,
With flocks of rats and mice."
With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.
"Come hither, then, good little boy,
And learn your alphabet,
And you a pair of boots and spurs,
Like your papa's, shall get."
"Oh yes! I'll learn my alphabet,
And when I've learned to read,
Perhaps papa will give me, too,
A pretty long-tailed steed."
With a tingle, tangle titmouse,
Robin knows great A,
And B, and C, and D, and E,
F, G, H, I, J, K.
Peter White will ne'er go right:
Would you know the reason why?
He follows his nose where'er he goes,
And that stands all awry.
The man in the moon
Came down too soon,
And asked his way to Norwich:
He went by the south,
And burnt his mouth
With eating cold plum-porridge.
Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Two old women got up in an apple-tree;
One came down,
And the other stayed up till Saturday.
Upon a great black horse-ily
A man came riding cross-ily;
A lady out did come-ily,
Said she, "No one's at home-ily,
"But only little people-y,
Who've gone to bed to sleep-ily."
The rider on his horse-ily
Said to the lady, cross-ily,
"But are they bad or good-ily?
I want it understood-ily."
"Oh, they act bad and bold-ily,
And don't do what they're told-ily."
"Good-by!" said he, "dear Ma'am-ily,
I've nothing for your family."
And scampered off like mouse-ily
Away, way from the house-ily.
"Mother Goose from Germany."
_The Rabbits_
Between the hill and the brook, ook, ook,
Two rabbits sat in the sun, O!
And there they ate the green, green grass,
Till all the grass was gone, O!
And when they had eaten enough, nough, nough,
They sat down to have a talk, O!
When there came a man with a gun, gun, gun,
And fired at them over the walk, O!
But when they found they were sound, ound, ound,
Nor hurt by the gun, gun, gun, O!
They picked themselves up from the ground, ound, ound,
And scampered away like fun, O!
"Mother Goose from Germany."
The King of France, and four thousand men,
They drew their swords, and put them up again.
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock;
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock.
A cat came fiddling
Out of a barn,
With a pair of bagpipes
Under her arm;
She could sing nothing
But fiddle cum fee,
The mouse has married
The bumble-bee;
Pipe, cat; dance, mouse:
We'll have a wedding
At our good house.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children she didn't know what to do;
She gave them some broth without any bread,
She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
There were two birds sat on a stone,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;
One flew away, and then there was one,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;
The other flew after,
And then there was none,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;
And so the poor stone
Was left all alone,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de.
If all the seas were one sea,
What a _great_ sea that would be!
And if all the trees were one tree,
What a _great_ tree that would be!
And if all the axes were one axe,
What a _great_ axe that would be!
And if all the men were one man,
What a _great_ man he would be!
And if the _great_ man took the _great_ axe,
And cut down the _great_ tree,
And let it fall into the _great_ sea,
What a splish splash _that_ would be!
As Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks
Were walking out one Sunday,
Said Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks,
"To-morrow will be Monday."
Three children sliding on the ice
Upon a summer's day,
As it fell out they all fell in,
The rest they ran away.
Now had these children been at home,
Or sliding on dry ground,
Ten thousand pounds to one penny
They had not all been drowned.
Ye parents all, that children have,
And ye that eke have none,
If you would keep them from the grave,
Pray make them stay at home.
One misty, moisty morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment, and I began to grin,
How do you do, and how do you do?
And how do you do again?
Brave news is come to town;
Brave news is carried;
Brave news is come to town--
Jemmy Dawson's married.
First he got a porridge-pot,
Then he bought a ladle;
Then he got a wife and child,
And then he bought a cradle.
There was an old man,
And he had a calf,
And that's half;
He took him out of the stall,
And tied him to the wall,
And that's all.
The man in the wilderness asked me,
How many strawberries grew in the sea?
I answered him as I thought good,
As many as red herrings grew in the wood.
If all the world were apple-pie,
And all the sea were ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
What should we have for drink?
(_First child_). 1. I am a gold lock.
(_Second child._) 2. I am a gold key.
1. I am a silver lock.
2. I am a silver key.
1. I am a brass lock.
2. I am a brass key.
1. I am a lead lock.
2. I am a lead key.
1. I am a monk lock.
2. I am a monk key.
(_First child._) 1. I went up one pair of stairs.
(_Second child._) 2. Just like me.
1. I went up two pair of stairs.
2. Just like me.
1. I went into a room.
2. Just like me.
1. I looked out of a window.
2. Just like me.
1. And there I saw a monkey.
2. Just like me.
Girls and boys, come out to play,
The moon doth shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper and leave your sleep,
And come with your playfellows into the street.
Come with a whoop, come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
You find milk, and I'll find flour,
And we'll have a pudding in half an hour.
Gay go up and gay go down,
To ring the bells of London town.
"Bull's eyes and targets,"
Say the bells of St. Marg'ret's.
"Brickbats and tiles,"
Say the bells of St. Giles'.
"Halfpence and farthings,"
Say the bells of St. Martin's.
"Oranges and lemons,"
Say the bells of St. Clement's.
"Pancakes and fritters,"
Say the bells of St. Peter's.
"Two sticks and an apple,"
Say the bells at Whitechapel.
"Old Father Baldpate,"
Say the slow bells at Aldgate.
"You owe me ten shillings,"
Say the bells at St. Helen's.
"Pokers and tongs,"
Say the bells at St. John's.
"Kettles and pans,"
Say the bells at St. Ann's.
"When will you pay me?"
Say the bells of Old Bailey.
"When I grow rich,"
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
"Pray when will that be?"
Say the bells of Stepney.
"I'm sure I don't know,"
Says the great bell at Bow.
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And it was full of pretty things
For baby and for me.
There were sweetmeats in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors
That stood between the decks,
Were four-and-twenty white mice,
With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
The captain cried, "Quack, quack!"
There was a butcher cut his thumb,
When it did bleed, then blood did come.
There was a chandler making candle,
When he them stript, he did them handle.
There was a cobbler clouting shoon,
When they mended, they were done.
There was a crow sat on a stone,
When he was gone, then there was none.
There was a horse going to the mill,
When he went on, he stood not still.
There was a lackey ran a race,
When he ran fast, he ran apace.
There was a monkey climbed a tree,
When he fell down, then down fell he.
There was a navy went into Spain,
When it return'd, it came again.
There was an old woman lived under a hill,
And if she's not gone, she lives there still.
VII
NURSERY NOVELS
_The Courtship, Merry Marriage, and Picnic Dinner of Cock Robin
and Jenny Wren_
It was a merry time
When Jenny Wren was young,
So neatly as she danced,
And so sweetly as she sung,
Robin Redbreast lost his heart:
He was a gallant bird;
He doft his hat to Jenny,
And thus to her he said:--
"My dearest Jenny Wren,
If you will but be mine,
You shall dine on cherry pie,
And drink nice currant wine.
I'll dress you like a Goldfinch,
Or like a Peacock gay;
So if you'll have me, Jenny,
Let us appoint the day."
Jenny blushed behind her fan,
And thus declared her mind:
"Then let it be to-morrow, Bob,
I take your offer kind--
Cherry pie is very good!
So is currant wine!
But I will wear my brown gown,
And never dress too fine."
Robin rose up early
At the break of day;
He flew to Jenny Wren's house,
To sing a roundelay.
He met the Cock and Hen,
And bid the Cock declare,
This was his wedding-day
With Jenny Wren, the fair.
The Cock then blew his horn,
To let the neighbors know,
This was Robin's wedding-day,
And they might see the show.
And first came parson Rook,
With his spectacles and band,
And one of _Mother Hubbard's_ books
He held within his hand.
Then followed him the Lark,
For he could sweetly sing,
And he was to be clerk
At Cock Robin's wedding.
He sung of Robin's love
For little Jenny Wren;
And when he came unto the end,
Then he began again.
Then came the bride and bridegroom;
Quite plainly was she dressed,
And blushed so much, her cheeks were
As red as Robin's breast.
But Robin cheered her up;
"My pretty Jen," said he,
"We're going to be married
And happy we shall be."
The Goldfinch came on next,
To give away the bride;
The Linnet, being bride's maid,
Walked by Jenny's side;
And, as she was a-walking,
She said, "Upon my word,
I think that your Cock Robin
Is a very pretty bird."
The Bulfinch walked by Robin,
And thus to him did say,
"Pray, mark, friend Robin Redbreast,
That Goldfinch, dressed so gay;
What though her gay apparel
Becomes her very well,
Yet Jenny's modest dress and look
Must bear away the bell."
The Blackbird and the Thrush,
And charming Nightingale,
Whose sweet jug sweetly echoes
Through every grove and dale;
The Sparrow and Tom Tit,
And many more, were there:
All came to see the wedding
Of Jenny Wren, the fair.
"O then," says parson Rook,
"Who gives this maid away?"
"I do," says the Goldfinch,
"And her fortune I will pay:
Here's a bag of grain of many sorts,
And other things beside;
Now happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride!"
"And will you have her, Robin,
To be your wedded wife?"
"Yes, I will," says Robin,
"And love her all my life."
"And will you have him, Jenny,
Your husband now to be?"
"Yes, I will," says Jenny,
"And love him heartily."
Then on her finger fair
Cock Robin put the ring;
"You're married now," says Parson Rook,
While the Lark aloud did sing:
"Happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride!
And may not man, nor bird, nor beast,
This happy pair divide."
The birds were asked to dine;
Not Jenny's friends alone,
But every pretty songster
That had Cock Robin known.
They had a cherry pie,
Beside some currant wine,
And every guest brought something,
That sumptuous they might dine.
Now they all sat or stood
To eat and to drink;
And every one said what
He happened to think;
They each took a bumper,
And drank to the pair:
Cock Robin, the bridegroom,
And Jenny Wren, the fair.
The dinner-things removed,
They all began to sing;
And soon they made the place
Near a mile round to ring.
The concert it was fine;
And every bird tried
Who best could sing for Robin
And Jenny Wren, the bride.
Then in came the Cuckoo,
And he made a great rout;
He caught hold of Jenny,
And pulled her about.
Cock Robin was angry,
And so was the Sparrow,
Who fetched in a hurry
His bow and his arrow.
His aim then he took,
But he took it not right;
His skill was not good,
Or he shot in a fright;
For the Cuckoo he missed,
But Cock Robin killed!--
And all the birds mourned
That his blood was so spilled,
_The Death and Burial of Cock Robin_
Who killed Cock Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin."
Who saw him die?
"I," said the Fly,
"With my little eye,
I saw him die."
Who caught his blood?
"I," said the Fish,
"With my little dish,
I caught his blood."
Who'll make his shroud?
"I," said the Beetle,
"With my thread and needle,
I'll make his shroud."
Who'll bear the torch?
"I," said the Linnet,
"I'll come in a minute,
I'll bear the torch."
Who'll be the clerk?
"I," said the Lark,
"I'll say Amen in the dark;
I'll be the clerk."
Who'll dig his grave?
"I," said the Owl,
"With my spade and trowel,
I'll dig his grave."
Who'll be the parson?
"I," said the Rook,
"With my little book,
I'll be the parson."
Who'll be chief mourner?
"I," said the Dove,
"I mourn for my love;
I'll be chief mourner."
Who'll sing his dirge?
"I," said the Thrush,
"As I sing in a bush,
I'll sing his dirge."
Who'll bear the pall?
"We," said the Wren,
Both the Cock and the Hen;
"We'll bear the pall."
Who'll carry his coffin?
"I," said the Kite,
"If it be in the night,
I'll carry his coffin."
Who'll toll the bell?
"I," said the Bull,
"Because I can pull,
I'll toll the bell."
All the birds of the air
Fell to sighing and sobbing
When they heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.
My dear, do you know,
How a long time ago,
Two poor little children,
Whose names I don't know,
Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,
And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.
And when it was night,
So sad was their plight!
The sun it went down,
And the moon gave no light!
They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried,
And the poor little things, they lay down and died.
And when they were dead,
The robins so red,
Brought strawberry-leaves
And over them spread;
And all the day long,
They sung them this song:
"Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood!
Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?"
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts,
All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts,
And took them clean away.
The King of Hearts called for the tarts,
And beat the Knave full sore;
The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts,
And vowed he'd steal no more.
A little boy and a little girl
Lived in an alley;
Said the little boy to the little girl,
"Shall I, oh! shall I?"
Said the little girl to the little boy,
"What will you do?"
Said the little boy to the little girl,
"I will kiss you."
When good King Arthur ruled this land,
He was a goodly king;
He stole three pecks of barley-meal,
To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuff'd it well with plums:
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.
The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried.
"Little maid, pretty maid, whither goest thou?"
"Down in the meadow to milk my cow."
"Shall I go with thee?" "No, not now;
When I send for thee, then come thou."
Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean;
And so, betwixt them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell
And then he kept her very well.
The little priest of Felton,
The little priest of Felton,
He kill'd a mouse within his house,
And ne'er a one to help him.
Ding, dong, bell,
Pussy's in the well!
Who put her in?--
Little Tommy Lin.
Who pulled her out?--
Big John Strout.
What a naughty boy was that
To drown poor pussy-cat,
Who never did him any harm,
But kill'd the mice in his father's barn.
When I was a bachelor
I lived by myself;
And all the bread and cheese I got
I put upon the shelf.
The rats and the mice
They made such a strife,
I was forced to go to London
To buy me a wife.
The streets were so bad,
And the lanes were so narrow,
I was forced to bring my wife home
In a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke,
And my wife had a fall,
Down came wheelbarrow,
Little wife and all.
I had a little husband,
No bigger than my thumb;
I put him in a pint-pot,
And there I bade him drum.
I bought a little horse,
That galloped up and down;
I bridled him, and saddled him,
And sent him out of town.
I gave him little garters,
To garter up his hose,
And a little handkerchief,
To wipe his little nose.
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie;
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish
To set before the King?
The King was in his counting-house,
Counting out his money;
The Queen was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey;
The maid was in the garden
Hanging out the clothes;
When up came a blackbird,
And nipped off her nose.
Little Bo-peep, she lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamed she heard them bleating;
When she awoke she found it a joke,
For they still were all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left their tails behind them!
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray,
Unto a meadow hard by--
There she espied their tails side by side,
All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,
And over the hillocks she raced;
And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,
That each tail should be properly placed.
There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to the brook,
And he saw a little duck,
And he shot it right through the head, head, head.
He carried it home,
To his good wife Joan,
And bid her make a fire for to bake, bake, bake,
To roast the little duck
He had shot in the brook,
And he'd go fetch her next the drake, drake, drake.
The drake had gone to sail,
With his nice curly tail,
The little man made it his mark, mark, mark.
But he let off his gun,
And he fired too soon,
So the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.
Three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
And they began to cry,
_O mother dear,_
_We very much fear,_
_That we have lost our mittens._
Lost your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.
_Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow._
No, you shall have no pie.
_Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow._
The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
And they began to cry,
_O mother dear,_
_See here, see here!_
_See! we have found our mittens._
Put on your mittens,
You silly kittens,
And you may have some pie.
_Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r,_
_O let us have the pie._
_Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r._
The three little kittens put on their mittens,
And soon ate up the pie;
_O mother dear,_
_We greatly fear,_
_That we have soiled our mittens._
Soiled your mittens!
You naughty kittens!
Then they began to sigh,
_Mee-ow; mee-ow, mee-ow._
Then they began to sigh,
_Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow._
The three little kittens they washed their mittens,
And hung them out to dry;
_O mother dear,_
_Do you not hear,_
_That we have washed our mittens?_
Washed your mittens!
O, you're good kittens.
But I smell a rat close by:
Hush! Hush! _mee-ow, mee-ow._
_We smell a rat close by,_
_Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow._
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.