Volume 1 — Humpty Dumpty

I There he lay, stretched out on the ground, While all the company gathered around; When, valiantly stifling his tears and his groans, He sadly addressed them in quavering tones.

II “Friends,” said Humpty, wiping his eyes, “This sudden descent was an awful surprise. It inclines me to think,—you may laugh at my views,— That a seat that is humble is safest to choose.

III “All are not fitted to sit on a wall, Some have no balance, and some are too small; Many have tried it and found, as I guess, They’ve ended, like me, in a terrible mess.

IV “Hark, you horses, and all you king’s men! Hear it, and never forget it again! ’Tis those who are patient in seats that are low, Who some day get up in high places and crow.”

V Then they took him and put him to bed. I hope you’ll remember the things that he said; For all the king’s horses and all the king’s men Never once thought of his sermon again.

This noble queen, with mind serene, Then made a mammoth cake. The naughty knave for cake did crave, And off with it did make. The haughty king, for punishing, Would have him eat it all, Which made the knave—unhappy slave— Too sick to speak or crawl.

Since then, at ease, their majesties Eat pastries every day. The knave affirms his stomach squirms, And looks the other way. Alas, alas, to such a pass Doth gluttony invite! ’Tis very sad to be so bad, And lose one’s appetite.

Next day the queen, with lofty mien, Prepared some lovely pies. The feeble knave side-glances gave At them with longing eyes. The cruel king, with mocking fling, Said: “Do, now, have some pie!” The qualmish knave, no longer brave, Could only groan, “Not I.”

This morning as I wandered To enjoy the charming weather, I met a man in goggles and a modern suit of leather. He began to toot a horn and I began to run, He knocked me flat nor cared for that; And down the road he spun.

I OOD Queen Kate was his royal mate, And a right royal mate was she: She would frequently state that carousing till late Was something that never should be. But every fiddler had such a fine fiddle,— Oh, such a fine fiddle had he,— That old King Cole, in his inmost soul, Was as restive as he could be.

II HEN thus spoke she to his majesty, He planted his crown on tight. “We will wait,” whispered he to the fiddlers three, “Till the Queen has retired for the night.” Every fiddler then tuned up his fiddle, And tuned it as true as could be: While old King Cole got his pipe and bowl And replenished them secretly.

III O gay they grew as the night hours flew, He forgot how the time sped away; Till swift overhead he heard the Queen’s tread As she sprang out of bed, when he hurriedly said They might finish the tune the next day. Every fiddler he had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he: Oh, ’t was not fair such a concert rare Should be ended so suddenly!

“Fy, pussy, what a lazy cat, On such a pleasant day To sit and drowse beside the fire And sleep the hours away! A self-respecting dog would think Himself a sorry cur, If he did nothing all day long But fold his arms and purr!”

“Now, sir, you needn’t criticize Because I sit and blink, For while my eyes are shut, like this, I think, and think, and think. And when I purr, please understand I work with all my might, A-humming over songs I sing When I go out at night.

“Excuse me. Now I’ll close my eyes, And think a little more. On busy days like this, I show My visitors the door. ’T is only little dogs who judge That one must idle be, Unless one’s chasing round and round Or barking up a tree.”

But never a word of plaint will be heard From robin, no matter how tired and cold;

For well will he know that the winter will go, And the blossoms and greenness of spring unfold.

And when the warm sun says winter is done, He’ll gladden us all with his cheery song; And never will fret if the season is wet, Or wail that the winter was hard and long.

I bought a little carriage And took him out to ride, And yet with all my efforts He wasn’t satisfied. I never would have married, Now this I do declare,— If I’d supposed a husband Was such an awful care.

This clever man then hastened on And bought a pair of shears, But when he tried to cut with them, He snipped off both his ears. And when he heard his ears were off, (’T was told him o’er and o’er), He seized the shears and snipped them back As they had been before.

“Because,” said he, “wise men like me, Who travel round about, And keep their eyes, and use them well, May find some people out. And if they also use their ears, And hark what hearsay brings, They’re likewise pretty sure to hear Some very funny things.”

See saw, steady and slow! Other places there are, I know, But they are not worth the trouble to go, For Boston people have told me so.

Sing a song o’ sixpence A pocket full of rye; I know another blackbird Baked in a pie. The maid it was who baked it With all her might and main, Resolved there’d be one blackbird That shouldn’t nip again.

I never will dress her again, that is sure. Her scratches, you see, are not easy to cure. And I find that it takes much more time than you’d guess, To sew up the rents in my dolly’s best dress.

I’d give a good deal, if it wasn’t for that, To see how she’d look in my dolly’s new hat. But no, I’ll not try it, you never can tell; And politeness is best till one’s scratches get well.

Jack Horner had three brothers, Their names were Horner, too— One was James, and one was George, And the little one was Hugh. And they always did exactly What they saw Jackie do— James and George and the littlest one, The one whose name was Hugh.

So when Jack’s Christmas pie was made, They made three others, too— One for James, and one for George, And a little one for Hugh. And they sat up in corners, As they’d seen Jackie do— James and George and the littlest one, The one whose name was Hugh.

I’m sure ’t was very lucky (Does it not seem so to you?) That the room had just four corners

For

For if Jackie had a corner, There must be corners, too, For James and George and the littlest one, The one whose name was Hugh.