Part 13 (2/2)
IV.
Harriet Hutch, Her conduct was such, Her uncle remarked it would conquer the Dutch: She boiled her new bonnet, And breakfasted on it, And rode to the moon on her grandmother's crutch.
AN OLD RAT'S TALE.
He was a rat, and she was a rat, And down in one hole they did dwell.
And each was as black as your Sunday hat, And they loved one another well.
He had a tail, and she had a tail; Both long and curling and fine.
And each said, ”My love's is the finest tail In the world, excepting mine!”
He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese, And they both p.r.o.nounced it good; And both remarked it would greatly add To the charms of their daily food.
So he ventured out and she ventured out; And I saw them go with pain.
But what them befell I never can tell, For they never came back again.
TO THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WRIGGLES.
Don't wriggle about any more, my dear!
I'm sure all your joints must be sore, my dear!
It's wriggle and jiggle, it's twist and it's wiggle, Like an eel on a s.h.i.+ngly sh.o.r.e, my dear, Like an eel on a s.h.i.+ngly sh.o.r.e.
Oh! how do you think you would feel, my dear, If you should turn into an eel, my dear?
With never an arm to protect you from harm, And no sign of a toe or a heel, my dear, No sign of a toe or a heel?
And what do you think you would do, my dear, Far down in the water so blue, my dear, Where the prawns and the shrimps, with their curls and their crimps, Would turn up their noses at you, my dear, Would turn up their noses at you?
The crab he would give you a nip, my dear, And the lobster would lend you a clip, my dear.
And perhaps if a shark should come by in the dark, Down his throat you might happen to slip, my dear, Down his throat you might happen to slip.
Then try to sit still on your chair, my dear!
To your parents 'tis no more than fair, my dear.
For we really don't feel like inviting an eel Our board and our lodging to share, my dear, Our board and our lodging to share.
The Forty Little Ducklings.
[_A story with a certain amount of truth in it._]
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