THE THREAD-AND-NEEDLE TREE

Gladys Mehitable Arabelle Jane Could never be taught to sew! A table they gave her, exact to her size, With drawers and with fittings a princess might prize. Such needles she owned in a glittering line; Such thread and such silk, both the coarse and the fine; The daintiest scissors that ever were seen, A wee golden thimble, a gem for a queen; But, spite of these charming and housewifely things And a pink brocade work-bag with blue satin strings, She could not be made to sew! II Gladys Mehitable Arabelle Jane Could never be taught to sew! Her mother’s instruction she viewed with disdain; Her grandmother’s teaching was given in vain. Her needles she’d break and her thread she would lose, Her thimble she’d hide in the tops of her shoes, She’d tear a fine handkerchief given to make, Her sampler she’d throw to the puppy to shake; And then she would cry, and she’d fret, and she’d scold, And vow if she lived to be ninety years old She never would learn to sew! III Gladys Mehitable Arabelle Jane, Who never would learn to sew— Oh, a terrible thing befell the child! She was sent to live in a desert wild, By her godmother fay, who was heard to swear She’d reform the chit or she’d leave her there! ’Twas a Mexican desert where Arabelle went, And shelter she had none, not even a tent. Her task was to gather her teardrops and soak The Needle-and-Thread Tree! Dear me, what a joke On a child who so “hated” to sew! IV Gladys Mehitable Arabelle Jane, Who never would learn to sew, Draws her needles now from a cactus leaf, And her thread unwinds from a prickly sheaf! She does it with care, and they’ve taught her to sing, “Oh, ’tis sewing I love above everything!” Her needles are thorns and they’re shining and long, Her thread is a fiber and marvelous strong: And all day long on the desert sands She mournfully chants o’er her gussets and bands— This Gladys who never would sew! V Gladys Mehitable Arabelle Jane, Who never would learn to sew, Tends the Needle Tree in the desert drear, But her other tasks not so sweet appear. She mends the crown of the fat horned toad; The lizard’s tail, if it snaps in the road; The scorpion’s claws she bastes on tight, And the spider’s webs she darns by night. She’s the tailor for snake and for bumblebee. Oh, ever, eternally busy is she, This Gladys who “hated” to sew!