Part 8 (1/2)
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin w.i.l.l.ykin Winky Wee!
How does the Admiral take his tea?
He takes it with splices, he takes it with spars, He takes it with jokers and jolly jack tars.
And he stirs it round with a dolphin's fin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
Oh, Pillykin w.i.l.l.ykin Winky Wee!
How does the President take his tea?
He takes it in bed, he takes it in school, He takes it in Congress against the rule.
He takes it with brandy, and thinks it no sin.
Oh, Punkydoodle and Jollapin!
MRS. SNIPKIN AND MRS. WOBBLECHIN.
Skinny Mrs. Snipkin, With her little pipkin, Sat by the fireside a-warming of her toes.
Fat Mrs. Wobblechin, With her little doublechin, Sat by the window a-cooling of her nose.
Says this one to that one, ”Oh! you silly fat one, _Will_ you shut the window down? You're freezing me to death!”
Says that one to t'other one, ”Good gracious, how you bother one!
There isn't air enough for me to draw my precious breath!”
Skinny Mrs. Snipkin, Took her little pipkin, Threw it straight across the room as hard as she could throw; Hit Mrs. Wobblechin On her little doublechin, And out of the window a-tumble she did go.
MY SUNBEAMS.
Oh, what shall we do for the Lovely This rainy, rainy day?
Oh! how shall we make the baby laugh, When everything's dull and gray?
The sun has gone on a picnic, The moon has gone to bed, The tiresome sky does nothing but cry, As if its best friend were dead.
Come hither, come hither, my Sunbeams!
Come one, and two, and three; And now in a trice we'll have the room As sunny as sunny can be.
Come, dimpling, dimpling Dumpling, Come, Rosy, Posy Rose, Come, little boy Billy a-toddling round On little fat tottering toes.
Now twinkle, now twinkle, my Sunbeams!
Now twinkle and laugh and dance, And brush me the gloom straight out of the room, Nor leave it the ghost of a chance.
Aha! see the Lovely smile now!
Aha! see her jump and crow!
As round and round, with laugh and dance, My three merry Sunbeams go.
And who cares now for the raindrops?
Who cares for the gloomy day, When each little heart is doing its part To make us all glad and gay?
You moon, you may stay in bed now; You sun, you may wander and roam; And cry away, cry, you tiresome sky!