The Giant 
 
 AND 
 
 Other Nonsense Verse 
 
 BY 
 
 ALBERT W. SMITH 
 
 ANDRUS & CHURCH 
 
 ITHACA, N. Y. 
 
 19IO 
 
T5 3^37 
 
 " The Giant," the " Arctic Ball," and " Funnyland," in slightly different 
 form, appeared originally in "The Ladies' Home Journal," and thanks are 
 due to the editor for his kind permission to include them in this book. 
 
 Copyright, 1910 
 by Albert W. Smith, 
 
 ©CI.A265295 
 
5X^ 
 
 
 "Co 
 
 Jllpheus 
 
 T)orothy 
 
 and 
 
 %ith. 
 
THE GIANT 
 
 ^npHERE is a Giant in the world 
 
 -■- Whose head is up so high, 
 He has to get down on his knees 
 To look up in the sky. 
 
 And when he feels the need of food, 
 
 He wades out in the sea 
 And fishes out a whale or two 
 
 Just right to fricassee. 
 
 Or if he's near to Hindustan 
 
 He gathers up a few 
 Young elephants with jungle brush 
 
 For oriental stew. 
 
 And when he tires of earthly food 
 
 His diet, as a rule, 
 Consists of planets roasted well 
 
 And hung outside to cool. 
 
 He sends his wife to gather them ; 
 
 She brings them on a tray ; 
 For cream to make the planet sauce 
 
 She skims the Milky Way. 
 
 When Mrs. Giant cooks, the steam 
 
 Floats off across the sky 
 In clouds that drop the rain that keeps 
 
 The world from getting dry. 
 
THE GIANT 
 
 And sometimes when the clouds are dark, 
 
 The Giant gets his gun 
 And shoots it in their very midst — 
 
 Because he likes the fun. 
 
 But when the sky is clear all day, 
 
 Without a cloud in sight. 
 The Giant finds his supper cold 
 
 When he gets home at night. 
 
 Whenever Mrs. Giant goes 
 
 To tidy up the room, 
 She picks a comet 'cause its tail 
 
 Is handy for a broom. 
 
 The Giant drinks, to quench his thirst, 
 
 A whirling water-spout ; 
 He gave up drinking mountain lakes 
 
 lycst he should have the gout. 
 
 He puts a forest in his pipe 
 
 When he's inclined to smoke, 
 And lights his match upon the moon ; 
 The moon can't see the joke ! 
 
 I think, my child, were you a moon, 
 
 'Way off in stellar space, 
 You'd feel put out if anyone 
 
 Scratched matches on your face ! 
 
THE GIANT 
 
 The Giant dresses up sometimes 
 
 And goes to take a stroll ; 
 And picks a little bunch of stars 
 
 To deck his buttonhole. 
 
 He's mighty careful which he takes ; 
 
 He knows the ones to shun ; 
 He burned his fingers badly once 
 
 By fooling with the Sun. 
 
 And once in absent minded mood 
 
 He picked a nettle star ; — 
 He ran a-yelling all the way 
 
 From Rome to Zanzibar ! 
 
 The islands are his stepping-stones, 
 
 The continents his bed ; 
 He slept on Greenland once and caught 
 
 A snuffle in his head. 
 
 He slides around the Arctic Pole ; 
 
 And if he gets a chill 
 He goes and sits a month or two 
 
 In India or Brazil. 
 
 He caught his trousers on Cape Horn 
 
 And tore an awful slit ; 
 He stayed in bed a season while 
 
 His wife embroidered it ; 
 She fixed it with a patch of sky ; 
 
 It didn't show a bit ! 
 
THE GIANT 
 
 When walking through a mountain land, 
 
 He sometimes stubs his toe ; 
 The shock is called an earthquake by 
 
 The frightened folks below. 
 
 Our weather only comes about 
 
 Up to the Giant's knees ; 
 The rest of him sticks up above 
 
 As pleasant as you please. 
 
 So, when he wants to dust his shoes. 
 
 He only has to stand 
 A minute in the middle of 
 
 Some handy, windy land. 
 
 He saw the men who went to dig 
 
 The Panama Canal. 
 He slapped his knees and laughed until 
 
 He grew hysterical. 
 
 He could have finished that Canal 
 
 With half a dozen kicks ; 
 But he had promised not to get 
 
 Mixed up in politics ! 
 
 One night a great astronomer, 
 
 While gazing into space, 
 By chance looked through his telescope 
 
 Right in the Giant's face. 
 
THE GIANT 
 
 He thought it was the moon until 
 The Giant winked his eye ; — 
 
 The wise man never dared again 
 To search the starry sky. 
 
 We never see the Giant, for 
 
 On seeing us he flies, 
 Because he feels so ill at ease 
 
 And conscious of his size. 
 
THE ARCTIC BALL 
 
 THEY gave a ball in the Arctic Zone, 
 And they danced on the frozen sea. 
 The North-wind blew on a big trombone, 
 And he played tunes that would melt a stone, 
 But none in a minor key ; 
 For that would melt ice and lower the tone. 
 Imagine a ball in the Arctic Zone 
 On a melting, mushy sea ! 
 
 An Arctic ball is a long, long thing, J 
 
 For it's dark for six months there. 
 
 They dance from Fall till early Spring, 
 
 The two-step, waltz and the Highland-fling, 
 
 Utterly free from care. 
 
 They eat ice-cream that they have to blow 
 
 To cool it off for it burns them so ; 
 
 And they all drink liquified air. 
 
 The whalloping whales came floundering through 
 
 A hole in the icy floor ; 
 
 And the Seals all came and the Caribou, 
 
 The old Musk-ox, and the Reindeer too 
 
 And many many more. 
 
 They all joined feet and flippers and fins 
 
 And danced 'round the Pole where the world begins, 
 
 With bark and bellow and roar. 
 
THE ARCTIC BALL 
 
 When Boreas started an Irish reel 
 
 The Reindeer pricked up his ears ; 
 
 And a thrill ran through him from antler to heel 
 
 Of longing to dance that he couldn't conceal, 
 
 Although the most proper of deers. 
 
 So they scattered some sand in an open space 
 
 And gave him a hearty call ; 
 
 And he sidestepped out with a rythmical pace, 
 
 And danced to the reel with the greatest of grace. 
 
 'Twas the finest thing at the ball ! 
 
 An Iceberg waltzed with the Northern Light ; 
 
 And she flushed and smiled and said : 
 **0, why, dear Berg, so cool tonight? 
 
 You give me a chill and a frosty fright, 
 
 Lest I catch a cold in my head." 
 '* I'm as warm as I dare to be, my sweet. 
 
 With dancing and love of you ; 
 
 If I loved you more or should hurry my feet, 
 
 My blood would rise to a fever heat, 
 
 Fahrenheit thirty-two. 
 
 And then I'd melt and babble away, 
 
 From a tall iceberg to a big flat bay ; 
 
 Melted for love of you." 
 
THE ARCTIC BALL 
 
 The Walrus danced with the Polar Bear, 
 But it wasn't much for grace ; 
 Their joints were rusty and out of repair : 
 But the Bear wore an icicle wreath in her hair, 
 And the Walrus a smiling face. 
 And the Chaperone said, behind her fan : 
 " They're doing the best they possibly can, 
 And laughter is out of place ! " 
 
 The North Pole listened and wondered why 
 
 He felt such a troublesome thrill ; 
 
 Though he stood stock still as they all danced by. 
 
 It was sorely against his will. 
 
 But if he should move just the wink of an eye, 
 
 The world would wabble and things would fly 
 
 And the oceans would surely spill. 
 
 So he heaved a sigh and took a brace 
 
 And held himself in his proper place. 
 
 And ' ' the old world wags on still. ' ' 
 
A TROPICAL AFTERNOON TEA 
 
 ONE afternoon when a mild monsoon 
 Blew over the tropical sea, 
 On the ocean strand of a sandy land 
 They gave a Tropical Tea. 
 
 0,0, who could foresee 
 
 All the beasts there would be at a Tropical Tea ? 
 
 In a monsoony land, 
 
 With a Tropical Band. 
 
 O, who could foresee ? 
 
 Every lady beast attended the feast 
 
 With the lady birds so fair ; 
 
 But the Whale and the Eel were sure they would feel 
 
 Quite out of their element there. 
 
 O, O, think of an Eel ! 
 
 With a squirming disgust that she couldn't conceal ! 
 
 Nothing wet but the tea, 
 
 Far away from the sea. 
 
 O, think of the Eel ! 
 
 A truce for the day kept the beasts of prey 
 From eating a handy guest ; 
 So the Tiger was there and the timid Hare, — 
 Though the Hare wasn't quite at her best. 
 
lo A TROPICAL AFTERNOON TEA 
 
 O, O, if the Hare wasn't scared ! 
 
 She would have gone lippetty home if she'd dared. 
 
 But she gave up the flight 
 
 And kept well out of sight. 
 
 O, wasn't she scared ! 
 
 The Zebra sneered when the Leopard appeared, 
 And said with a satisfied smile : 
 *'In France they would not wear a dress with a spot 
 And stripes are the latest style." 
 
 O, surely the Zebra forgot 
 
 That the lycopard's unable to alter a spot ; 
 
 Her critical tone 
 
 She'd have dropped if she'd known. 
 
 She surely forgot ! 
 
 The Ostrich was dressed in her very best 
 With plumy wings outspread ; 
 But the Paradise Bird said : ' ' How absurd ! 
 She hasn' t a plume for her head ! ' ' 
 
 O, O, it wasn't polite ! 
 
 The Ostrich felt sure that she looked like a fright. 
 
 She covered her head 
 
 In a handy sand-bed 
 
 Quite out of their sight. 
 
A TROPICAL AFTERNOON TEA ii 
 
 The Chimpanzee sipped oolong tea 
 
 And simpered and nibbled a sweet ; 
 
 And the Boa- constrictor would fain have kicked her, 
 
 But she hadn't the requisite feet. 
 
 O, O, she wasn't complete ! 
 
 A twenty foot Boa without any feet ; 
 
 If she'd had twenty three 
 
 What a kicker she'd be ! 
 
 She wasn't complete ! 
 
 An Orang-outang came out and sang 
 Unembarrassed by the throng ; 
 And they cried encore with a terrible roar 
 To her tropical, topical song. 
 
 Song : 
 
 In the jungle dim and dusky, 
 
 A monkey lithe and husky 
 
 Was hanging by his long prehensile tail ; 
 
 When he heard two men, preparing 
 
 An iron cage, declaring 
 
 That they'd learn the monkey lingo without fail. 
 
 O, O, wasn't it fun ! 
 
 He unhooked his tail and he started to run ; 
 
 Every simian friend 
 
 To the dim jungle's end 
 
 He told of the fun ! 
 
14 A TROPICAL AFTERNOON TEA 
 
 And everyone stayed till the twilight shade 
 Dimmed the tropical afternoon. 
 And they all went away through the fading day, 
 By the moon through the mild Monsoon. 
 
 O, O, it was a lark ! 
 
 They gossipped and stayed till the edge of the dark. 
 
 And some were afraid 
 
 And were sorry they'd stayed. 
 
 O, wasn't it dark ! 
 
THE TIDES . 
 
 THE ocean had, in days of yore, 
 A very dirty, mussjT- shore 
 From Newfoundland to Singapore. 
 
 When mermaids wished to go to land, 
 To sit and sing upon the strand, 
 They had to flop through slimy sand. 
 
 When Neptune saw this, it befell, 
 He took his dolphin team and shell 
 And sped away across the swell. 
 
 He went to every sea and bay, 
 
 And gave his orders all the way 
 
 From Greenland's rim to far Cathay; — 
 
 And now the tides rise up and roar. 
 And twice a day they wash the shore 
 From Newfoundland to Singapore ; 
 
 And beaches lie all clean and fair. 
 Where mermaids sing and take the air 
 With tidy tails and streaming hair. 
 
NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 TDEFORK Time started on his way 
 
 -*-^ There was no changing night and dayj; 
 
 The sun stood still above Bombay. 
 
 And Bombay people had to hear 
 The constant clanging far and near 
 Of bells that called to noonday cheer. 
 
 They ate continuously, for when 
 They finished their dessert, why then 
 They started off with soup again. 
 
 One eats with pleasure and a jest 
 With time between meals to digest ; 
 But constant eating spoils the zest. 
 
 ^)C v!^ ^> v!^ ^(j vl^ 
 
 About three thousand miles away 
 In all directions from Bombay 
 It was forever early day ; 
 
 And people worked with might and main 
 Hoping for dinner time and fain 
 For night and rest, but all in vain. 
 
 A sandwich snatched, a wedge of pie, 
 A cat-nap stolen on the sly. 
 These were the only reasons why, 
 
NIGHT AND DAY 17 
 
 Since they could neither rest or play, 
 They didn't stop in sheer dismay 
 And starve, dry up and blow away. 
 
 ?fs ?j> ^J^ *^ ^j^ ^J^ 
 
 And further on for many a mile 
 The dawn held sway with rosy smile, 
 And yawning folks dressed all the while. 
 
 ;}c :^ >fj >tc ;Jc ^ 
 
 The rest of earth was brooded o'er 
 By endless night, and one grand snore 
 Swelled loud and long from shore to shore. 
 
 And folks would wake with start and sigh 
 And rub their eyes and wonder why 
 Dawn never tinged the eastern sky.* 
 
 The moon and stars were wan and pale 
 From overwork, the nightingale 
 Could only croak and hoarsely wail. 
 
 * Some critic now will surely say : — 
 * ' How could they think of dawn when they 
 Had never been where it was day ? ' ' 
 
 Their shiftless forbears may have pined 
 In dawn-land, and with debts behind 
 Have gone where they were hard to find. 
 
 So, gentle critic, be content. 
 
 This hope of dawn was surely sent 
 
 By atavistic accident. 
 
i8 NIGHT AND DA Y 
 
 But ghosts might range abroad at will 
 Fearless of dawn and cock-crow shrill, 
 And waken folks with awful thrill. 
 
 5^ r^ J^ 5^ 5yC JjC 
 
 Now Phoebus driving in his car 
 With winged steeds from star to star, 
 Passed by the earth and from afar 
 
 Beheld the weary human race ; 
 He checked his horses for a space 
 And pondered with a serious face ; 
 
 Then put his horses to the run 
 
 And when a long swift course was done 
 
 He hitched his wagon to the sun. 
 
 Since then the dusky night alway 
 Around the world has chased the day ; 
 And we can work and rest and play. 
 
FUNNYLAND 
 
 THERE'S an island 'way off in the seas 
 Where the babies all grow upon trees. 
 It's the j oiliest fun 
 To swing in the sun ; 
 But they have to look out how they sneeze, 
 O, I tell you they'd better not sneeze ! 
 They might break themselves off 
 With a sneeze or a cough 
 And tumble down flop on their knees. 
 
 When the clouds darken mountain and dale, 
 When the breeze freshens up to a gale, 
 
 There is screaming and dropping 
 
 And laughing and hopping ; — 
 In fact little babies just hail. 
 They all lie on the ground in a pile, 
 And when people come, after a while. 
 
 They quickly pass by 
 
 The babies that cry, 
 And they pick up the babies that smile ; — 
 O, they even take twins if they smile ! 
 
 There's a tree where the kitty-cats grow. 
 They hang by their tails in a row ; 
 
 If they happen to fall, 
 
 They don't mind it at all. 
 For they fall on their feet as you know. 
 
20 FUNNYLAND 
 
 There once was a puppy-dog tree 
 That people came miles just to see. 
 
 But the bark was so loud 
 
 That it scattered the crowd 
 And rattled the isles of the sea ; 
 
 It frightened the King, 
 
 And the troublesome thing 
 Was cut down by a royal decree. 
 Whenever dogs grow now at all, 
 They are puggy and snarly and small ; 
 
 They grow on a vine 
 
 Like a squash, and they whine 
 Although they can't possibly fall. 
 
 Wherever an elephant grows. 
 
 He's always hitched on by his nose ; 
 
 And he just has to wait 
 
 Till his weight is so great 
 That his nose is stretched out to a hose ; — 
 That accounts for his rubbery nose. 
 And sometimes, when something is wrong. 
 The elephant hitch is so strong 
 
 That he fails to get free 
 
 From the elephant tree 
 Till his nose is a hundred feet long. 
 
 So he buys a hose- cart 
 
 To trundle a part 
 Of his nose as he lumbers along. 
 
FUNNYLAND 21 
 
 Any sensible person should know 
 
 How giraffes are hitched on when they grow. 
 
 Their necks elongate 
 
 With increase of their weight 
 Till their feet touch the ground and they go. 
 
 When first a young donkey appears, 
 He hangs from the limb by his ears ; 
 
 And he hangs till the day 
 
 When he first tries to bray — 
 O, the tree shakes him off when it hears ! 
 And he runs away wagging his ears. 
 
 The birdies swim 'round in the sea, 
 With the wasp and the bungleing bee. 
 
 If you dangle a worm, 
 
 With a wiggley squirm, 
 You might catch a chick-a-dee-dee. 
 
 The fishes swim 'round in the sky. 
 With pollywogs woggleing by, 
 
 While frogs hop around 
 
 On the clouds to the sound 
 Of the song of the lobsters that fly. 
 
22 " FUNNYLAND 
 
 A wonderful Funnyland sight 
 Is a mountain of very great height; 
 But you never could guess 
 What happens unless 
 You should be there on Saturday night. 
 
 When the sun in the west is aglow 
 The whole mountain rumbles, and lo, 
 
 It pours out a stream 
 
 Of assorted ice-cream 
 By the banks where the macaroons grow. 
 Then from city and country and town, 
 The children, of king and of clown, 
 
 All run with their spoons 
 
 And they pick macaroons 
 And they eat till they have to lie down. 
 
 But the thing that the children adore, 
 Is a mountain that stands by the shore, 
 
 With a cratery pot 
 
 Where molasses keeps hot 
 With trickles of taffy galore. 
 Sometimes it rains pop-corn at night ; 
 And all of the kernels that light 
 
 On the mountain-top, pop, 
 
 And they hop, and they drop, 
 Till the top of the mountain is white ; 
 
 And corn balls roll down 
 
 To the edge of the town, 
 While the children dance 'round with delight. 
 
FUNNYLAND 23 
 
 There's a spring hidden deep in a glade, 
 Of most excellent pink lemonade. 
 
 It falls in a pool 
 
 All bubbly cool 
 From a babbling and brawling cascade ; 
 And the children, each summery day 
 When they're thirsty with rollicking play, 
 
 Go there and dip up 
 
 Lemonade in a cup 
 And drink till their buttons give 'way. 
 
 When Funnyland children have chills 
 And fever, or colicky ills. 
 
 They are not put to bed 
 
 To be poulticed and fed 
 On gruel and puckery pills. 
 When the Doctor comes in to advise, 
 He says, as he scowls and looks wise : 
 " You've been eating brown bread 
 
 And potatoes instead 
 Of good wholesome candies and pies. 
 I can tell by the look in your eye 
 That you've kept your feet constantly dry. 
 
 For a lassie or lad 
 
 It is best to be bad, 
 Don't even be good on the sly." 
 
24 FUNNYLAND 
 
 THE Funnyland clerk of the weather 
 Doesn't waste his time finding out whether 
 
 Tomorrow '11 be blowy 
 
 Or sunny or snowy ; — 
 O, he's wiser than that altogether. 
 He carefully studies the past 
 And runs up a flag on a mast, 
 
 So that people can see 
 
 If there's going to be 
 A thunder storm week before last. 
 
 THE hunters go forth to the lair 
 Of the Tiger with crimps in his hair. 
 
 And peppery snuff 
 
 Is the terrible stuff 
 That they shoot at the blundering Bear. 
 For lo, when they happen to spy 
 The bears that go wandering by, 
 
 They shoot off their gun 
 
 And, although the bears run. 
 They sneeze off their heads and they die. 
 
FUNNYLAND 25 
 
 But they never go hunting this way 
 For the Tiboons that live in the bay ; 
 
 When they sneeze, O, the sound 
 
 Cracks the air, and the ground 
 Wabbles 'round in a terrible way. 
 
 So the King's Grenadiers, 
 
 With wool in their ears, 
 Stand always in warlike array 
 
 On the edge of the sand 
 
 With a fan in each hand 
 To keep tickley dust from the bay ; 
 
 So the Tiboons won't sneeze 
 
 Shaking surf from the seas 
 And rattling the islands away. 
 
 THE King goes forth daily at noon. 
 To parade with the knights of the moon ; 
 And he's grandly arrayed 
 In clothes that are made 
 From the skin of a raging Tiboon ; 
 A roaring and ramping Tiboon. 
 
26 FUNNYLAND 
 
 There was only one man in the isles 
 Who was wily enough with his wiles 
 
 To capture this beast, 
 
 So that people could feast 
 And the King could keep up with the styles. 
 He stealthily crept to the bay 
 While the little Tiboons were at play, 
 
 And their parents were drowsing 
 
 Or quietly browsing. 
 (They can't rage the whole of the day ! ) 
 
 The man waded quietly near 
 
 To the biggest Tiboon, from the rear, 
 
 And he tied a tin pail 
 
 To the end of his tail ; 
 O, the Tiboon went crazy with fear ; 
 His raging was awful to hear. 
 
 But he finally died 
 
 Of a twisted inside, — 
 Thus ended his ramping career. • 
 
FUNNYLAND 
 
 THE soldiers are never afraid 
 To taarch in a long cavalcade 
 
 To His Majesty's park 
 
 To shoot at a mark 
 Or take part in a deadly parade ; — 
 A boom-ta-rah-rahing parade. 
 
 When the band blows a blare 
 
 To crack open the air, 
 O, the soldiers are never afraid. 
 For years, through the King's oversight, 
 They had never been called out to fight ; 
 
 And they thirsted for gore, 
 
 (Other people's) and swore 
 That they languished to fight for the right. 
 
 One day the King happened to spy 
 A ship sailing by in the sky ; 
 
 And, I grieve to relate. 
 
 Made a face at the Mate, 
 And the Mate was insulted thereby ; 
 In fact " he had blood in his eye." 
 
 27 
 
28 FUNNYLAND 
 
 So he signalled the Chief Engineer 
 To check the ship's raging career, 
 
 And the anchor dropped down 
 
 And caught on the Town, 
 While the children all trembled with fear, — 
 A lovely, blood-curdling fear ! 
 Then the best parachute was prepared, 
 And the Mate, while the people all stared, 
 
 Came zigzagging down 
 
 In the midst of the town ; 
 But the King didn't look a bit scared. 
 (Though I think that he would if he'd dared.) 
 
 The face of the furious Mate 
 
 Was covered with whiskers and hate ; 
 
 *' The people," said he, 
 
 ' ' Who make faces at me 
 
 All meet with a horrible fate, — 
 
 A midnighty, church-yardy fate." 
 ' ' Surrender your Funnyland isle ! 
 
 Surrender your treasury pile ! 
 Surrender to me ! ' ' 
 But the King said, said he, 
 * ' Excuse me dear Sir, if I smile ! 
 
 (O, his smile could be seen for a mile !) 
 
FUNNYLAND 29 
 
 When the speaking and smiling were done 
 The army came up at a run. 
 
 O, the Mate was alarmed, 
 
 For each soldier was armed 
 With a kind of sky-rocketty gun. 
 They drew up in battle array 
 All loaded and primed for the fray. 
 
 O, the racket was dire 
 
 At the order to fire, 
 And the Mate — why he fainted away. 
 ('Twas the one way of getting away.) 
 Then there came a most terrible crash. 
 Such as big things make, going to smash ; 
 
 For the ship struck the ground, 
 
 And the air all around 
 Was filled up with splinters and trash, 
 Dust, kindling-wood, oakum and hash. 
 (The Captain and crew were the hash.) 
 
 The Mate knew his chances were slim, 
 But he never suspected how grim 
 
 Was his oncoming fate. 
 
 He was destined to wait 
 On the King who'd made faces at him, — 
 Disrespectful, wry faces at him ! 
 
30 FUNNYLAND 
 
 If you ever should sail in the air 
 As mate of a ship, O, beware ! 
 If a King in full view 
 Should make faces at you, 
 Don't suffer your anger to flare ; — 
 Remember this tragic affair ! 
 
 THE Funnyland chimneys are all 
 So large and exceedingly tall. 
 
 That Santa Claus shook 
 
 In his shoes when he took 
 A look at the distance to fall ; 
 
 Then he altered his plan 
 
 Like a wise little man 
 And didn't climb chimneys at all. 
 But in dooryards of every degree 
 He planted a curious tree ; 
 
 And now every year 
 
 When Christmas is near 
 The fruit is a wonder to see. 
 There are dollies and trolleys and rows 
 Of silky and satiny clothes ; 
 
 And candles and strings 
 
 Of tinsel, and rings 
 For the fingers and bells for the toes. 
 
FUNNYLAND 31 
 
 There are serpents and sugary hearts ; 
 Tin soldiers and cinnamon tarts ; 
 
 While bicycles grow 
 
 On the branches below 
 With wagons and wabbly carts. 
 
 There are ducks that you squeeze and they squawk ; 
 And green poUy-parrots that talk ; 
 
 And filberts and figs, 
 
 And cottony pigs 
 That you pull by a string and they walk. 
 On Christmas Eve children go out 
 To the Santa Claus tree with a shout, 
 
 And put baskets below 
 
 The things that they know 
 That they couldn't be happy without. 
 
 Then Santa Claus comes in the night 
 When there isn't a person in sight ; 
 
 And he chuckles with glee 
 
 As he climbs every tree 
 And shakes it with all of his might. 
 Things rustle and rattle and flop, 
 And loosen and tumble and drop, 
 
 Till the children awake 
 
 With the noise that they make 
 And the baskets are full to the top. 
 
32 FUNNYLAND 
 
 Just think of the wide-open eyes 
 Of children awaiting surprise ! 
 
 They tumble and twist 
 
 And sit up and insist 
 That the sun has forgotten to rise. 
 Then all, when the windows grow gray, 
 Run out in their bedtime array, 
 
 And the frolic begins ; — 
 
 They would like to be twins 
 To double the joy of the day. 
 
FUNNYLAND 
 
 WHEN slanting moonbeams touch the hills, 
 And shadows fill the glen ; 
 When people all are fast asleep, 
 
 The little maids and men 
 From Fairyland come sliding down 
 
 The moonbeams in a row, 
 With tuneful laugh and merry jest 
 
 And faces all aglow ; 
 As children in the winter lands 
 
 Toboggan on the snow. 
 The moonlight gleams on gauzy wings 
 
 And glints from precious stones ; 
 And caps are crowned with little bells 
 
 With silvery tinkling tones, 
 Each Fairy wears a cob-web dress, 
 
 And through this filmy guise 
 The mischief shows in every move 
 
 And sparkles in their eyes. 
 
 And some with bags of happy dreams 
 
 Go softly stealing where 
 The island children lie asleep, 
 
 And while they're unaware 
 Untie the bags, and lo, the doors 
 
 Of wonderland stand wide ! 
 I hope, my child, you've been sometimes 
 
 Where dream-bags were untied. 
 
 33 
 
34 FUNNYLAND 
 
 The crooked gnomes, with peaked hats 
 
 And faces ill to see, 
 Come swiftly riding night-mares too, 
 
 And with an elfish glee 
 They gallop over children who 
 
 Ate fruitcake after tea. 
 I hope, my child, you do not know 
 
 About the things they see. 
 
 One fairy stole a pepper-box 
 
 And flew above the bay, 
 And scattered clouds of pepper where 
 
 The sleeping Tiboons lay. 
 The Tiboons sneezed, the islands shook, 
 
 And chimneys tumbled down. 
 The people thought a foe had come 
 
 To cannonade the town. 
 The King got up and trembled so 
 
 He joggled off his crown. 
 My child, if Tiboons chance to live 
 
 In any neighboring bay, 
 You'd better lock the pepper up 
 
 Whenever you're away. 
 
 One night with fairy mandolins 
 
 They played such 'witching strains, 
 
 A kind of dancing madness ran 
 Through every hearer's veins ; 
 
FUNNYLAND 35 
 
 The players passed the Palace Gate ; 
 
 The King and Queen and all 
 The people of the household came 
 
 A-dancing through the hall. 
 They hadn't time to don their dress 
 
 Who heard the music's call. 
 They danced the streets, and all who heard 
 
 The music lilt along, 
 Came tripping lightly at the sound 
 
 To join the merry throng ; 
 Till all the people in the isle. 
 
 In sleeping clothes arrayed, 
 Were dancing in the moonlight night 
 
 In motley masquerade. 
 They danced and whirled beside the bay 
 
 Where Tiboons by the score. 
 Who'd heard the merry mandolins, 
 
 Were skipping on the shore. 
 One Tiboon gave his flipper to 
 
 His Majesty the King, 
 And there together on the sand 
 
 They *' cut a pigeon-wing." 
 The Fairies laughed until they cried, 
 
 ' Twas such a funny thing ! 
 
36 FUNNYLAND 
 
 At dawn the Fairies flew away ; 
 
 The dancing stopped — ah me ! 
 The weariness and burning shame 
 
 Were very sad to see. 
 A sort of Sunday quiet filled 
 
 The isle from shore to shore ; 
 But Fairyland resounded with 
 
 A most hilarious roar. 
 My child, when slanting moonbeams fall 
 
 Around your house, beware, 
 I^est Fairies with their mandolins 
 
 Should catch you unaware. 
 
A MARSH LYRIC 
 
 with humble apologies to the Shade of Bdward Lear. 
 
 HE went to hunt on the marsh, he did ; 
 A middle-aged man was he ; 
 In spite of all his friends could say, 
 On a foggy morn of a Winter's day 
 
 To the mushy marsh went he. 
 And everyone said who saw him go ; 
 O, he'll surely stick in the slough below, 
 For the mud is deep and the tide is strong 
 And happen what may it's extremely wrong 
 
 For a man of forty three." 
 
 Slime and slough, slime and slough, 
 
 In the marsh where the wild ducks swim ; 
 
 Their heads are green and their bills are blue 
 But there wasn't a duck for him ! 
 
 The water came into his boots, it did ; 
 
 The water and mud came in ; 
 But he called aloud, '' My boots will do 
 To hold my feet and the water too, ' ' 
 
 As he held his chattering chin. 
 And he found a fish and a soft-shell clam 
 And he said : ' ' How extremely wise I am ; 
 Though the marsh is broad and the sloughs are long, 
 I shall never think I was rash or wrong 
 
 To come where the fog blows in." 
 
 Slime and slough, slime and slough, 
 
 In the marsh where the wild ducks swim ; 
 
 Their heads are green and their bills are blue 
 But there wasn't a duck for him ! 
 
38 A MARSH L YRIC 
 
 He went to the shore of the bay, he did 
 
 To the shore where the tules grow ; 
 And he shot at a hawk and a brown marsh-owl, 
 And a rail and a teal and a feathery fowl 
 
 Whose name he didn't know. 
 He shot at a snipe and a wild goose gray, 
 And a spoonbill duck that didn't stay, 
 And a fat mud-hen and a butter-ball ; 
 And he shot three times at a heron tall. 
 
 And a pelican big and slow. 
 
 Slime and slough, slime and slough. 
 
 In the marsh where the wild ducks swim ; 
 
 Their heads are green and their bills are blue 
 But there wasn't a duck for him ! 
 
 The birds all laughed oHt loud, they did ; 
 
 To see the hunter there ; 
 And they said : " It's just no end of fun 
 When a middle-aged man with a great big gun 
 
 Shoots ragged holes in the air." 
 And the wild gray goose kept laughing till 
 The tears in streams ran down his bill ; 
 For there's fun so funny, the ducks agree 
 That even the biggest goose can see ; 
 
 But the hunter was unaware. 
 
 Slime and slough, slime and slough, 
 
 In the marsh where the wild ducks swim ; 
 
 Their heads are green and their bills are blue 
 But there wasn't a duck for him ! 
 
A MARSH LYRIC 
 
 Toward night the man came back, he did, 
 
 With movements sad and slow. 
 And they said : " He's been to the briny bay ; 
 And he wasn't drowned in the usual way ; 
 
 But he hasn't a bird to show." 
 They gave him toast and some tule tea, 
 And drank long life that they couldn't foresee ; 
 And everyone said : ' ' Some other day 
 We too will hunt by the foggy bay 
 
 Where the slimy sloughs o'erflow." 
 
 Slime and slough, slime and slough, 
 
 In the marsh where the wild ducks swim ; 
 
 Their heads are green and their bills are blue 
 But there wasn't a duck for him ! 
 
 39 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 
 
 OF all the fearsome, ugly things 
 With arms or legs or fins or wings, 
 That haunt the earth or seas or skies, 
 The Basilisk with fiery eyes 
 For fearsomeness took every prize. 
 His home, within a barren glen. 
 Was shunned by beasts and birds and men. 
 It didn't matter ; what cared he 
 For senseless sociability. 
 
 Daily the Basilisk would take 
 
 A trip down to a boiling lake 
 
 Of brimstone which he drank until 
 
 He had to crawl with care or spill. 
 
 He thought hot brimstone just the thing 
 
 With small blue flames for garnishing. 
 
 He swallowed it without a wink ; 
 
 It served him both for food and drink. 
 
 Then stretched upon the blistering shore 
 
 He slept, and lo, a sulphurous snore 
 
 Resounded loud and long and slow 
 
 From Zululand to Borneo. 
 
 None knew who heard this fearsome roar 
 
 Of what the future held in store. 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 41 
 
 When in his most goodnatured mood, 
 He basked content and filled with food, 
 His mildest glance would kill a tree, 
 Or split a rock or boil the sea. 
 'Twere wisdom then to shun his path 
 If he were roused to righteous wrath. 
 
 The Imp who kept the boiling lake 
 Supplied with sulphur, by mistake 
 Sent all the stock another way ; 
 The surface settled every day ; 
 And then — the lake went wholly dry. 
 It was a fearful hungry cry 
 With which, in no placating mood, 
 The Basilisk set out for food. 
 
 With anxious haste he left the glen 
 And sought the homes of beasts and men ; 
 For, lacking brimstone, he could stand 
 'Most any food that came to hand. 
 In fact he could, as you can guess. 
 Stand anything but emptyness. 
 For forty feet to left and right 
 He blasted everything in sight. 
 He spied upon a distant steep 
 A peaceful flock of grazing sheep. 
 He hustled up, this monster grim. 
 For mutton was the meat for him ! 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 
 
 OF all the fearsome, ugly things 
 With arms or legs or fins or wings, 
 That haunt the earth or seas or skies, 
 The Basilisk with fiery eyes 
 For fearsomeness took every prize. 
 His home, within a barren glen. 
 Was shunned by beasts and birds and men. 
 It didn't matter ; what cared he 
 For senseless sociability. 
 
 Daily the Basilisk would take 
 
 A trip down to a boiling lake 
 
 Of brimstone which he drank until 
 
 He had to crawl with care or spill. 
 
 He thought hot brimstone just the thing 
 
 With small blue flames for garnishing. 
 
 He swallowed it without a wink ; 
 
 It served him both for food and drink. 
 
 Then stretched upon the blistering shore 
 
 He slept, and lo, a sulphurous snore 
 
 Resounded loud and long and slow 
 
 From Zululand to Borneo. 
 
 None knew w^ho heard this fearsome roar 
 
 Of what the future held in store. 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 41 
 
 When in his most goodnatured mood, 
 He basked content and filled with food, 
 His mildest glance would kill a tree, 
 Or split a rock or boil the sea. 
 'Twere wisdom then to shun his path 
 If he were roused to righteous wrath. 
 
 The Imp who kept the boiling lake 
 Supplied with sulphur, by mistake 
 Sent all the stock another way ; 
 The surface settled every day ; 
 And then — the lake went wholly dry. 
 It was a fearful hungry cry 
 With which, in no placating mood, 
 The Basilisk set out for food. 
 
 With anxious haste he left the glen 
 And sought the homes of beasts and men ; 
 For, lacking brimstone, he could stand 
 'Most any food that came to hand. 
 In fact he could, as you can guess, 
 Stand anything but emptyness. 
 For forty feet to left and right 
 He blasted everything in sight. 
 He spied upon a distant steep 
 A peaceful flock of grazing sheep. 
 He hustled up, this monster grim. 
 For mutton was the meat for him ! 
 
42 THE BOY AND THE BASHISK 
 
 As he approached with hungry gaze, 
 
 Each sheep burned up with sulphurous blaze ; 
 
 And coming to the place he found 
 
 Just piles of ashes on the ground. 
 
 Now when a monster seeking food 
 
 Finds ashes, the resulting mood 
 
 Is apt to be a thing to dread ; 
 
 In fact he turned a fiery red. 
 
 He would have turned white hot but he 
 
 Feared burning up spontaneously. 
 
 He could have raged and gnashed his jaws ; 
 
 He could have scratched with all his claws ; 
 
 He had a long and mighty tail, 
 
 He could have lashed it like a flail. 
 
 What was the use, no thing in sight 
 
 Was left whereon to vent his spite. 
 
 Why should he make a grand-stand play 
 
 With grand-stands all so far away ? 
 
 The Basilisk was not too dense 
 
 To temper rage with common sense. 
 
 He reasoned thus : * * Since I destroy 
 
 By gazing, things I'd fain enjoy, 
 
 The one conclusion that I find 
 
 Is — I must starve or go it blind." 
 
 He shut his eyelids with a snap 
 
 And started out across the map. . 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 43 
 
 He gobbled here a flock of sheep, 
 And there he found some cows asleep. 
 By working overtime he could 
 Obtain a modest livlihood. 
 Sometimes he made a meal of men, 
 He could get on with eight or ten. 
 A load of wheat, a bale of hay, 
 A bunch of bushes by the way. 
 All these sufi&ced to partly fill 
 The need of his digestive mill. 
 
 Sometimes when hunger would abate 
 From fullness, he would meditate ; 
 And burning curiosity 
 Would fill his bosom full, for he 
 Was fain to see the landscape where 
 He sought his humble daily fare. 
 But when he chanced to crack his eye 
 All things in sight would blaze and fry ; 
 And thus he failed of his desire 
 To see the country free from fire. 
 And also, when he tried to see. 
 No man in range had time to flee. 
 Perhaps 'twere better just to burn 
 And have one's ashes in an urn. 
 Than to be gobbled up and risk 
 One's self inside the Basilisk. 
 
44 THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 
 
 This Monster with his hungry wrath 
 I^eft death and ruin in his path ; 
 And as he went on pasturing, 
 He neared the palace of the King. 
 The King had heard how, far away, 
 The Basilisk made disarray 
 By skufl&ng up the landscape's face 
 And swallowing the populace. 
 If this continued, it was plain 
 He'd have no reason left to reign. 
 Though far above the common mob. 
 He didn't like to lose his job. 
 'Twas now a far more serious thing, 
 The populace might lose their King ! 
 So he sent out a hurry call ; 
 The Council hustled to the hall, 
 And talked and talked and talked some more ; 
 And then — a Basiliskian roar 
 Reverberated near and far ; 
 It made the palace windows jar ! 
 Then silence fell and everyone 
 Forgot to talk and wished to run. 
 ('Tis hoped the reader won't mind this 
 Irrelevant parenthesis. 
 Bach King or Queen or Potentate 
 Or man who runs a town or state. 
 Should have a Basilisk to stalk 
 Around the place for stopping talk.) 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASHISK 45 
 
 Responding to the King's command, 
 
 A man whose voice could drown a band, 
 
 Came up and stood before the the throne. 
 
 The King passed out his megaphone 
 
 And said : * ' Go forth by every way 
 
 Unto my kingdom's bound and say, 
 
 'Hear ye, hear ye, the King declares 
 
 That he who kills this beast or scares 
 
 His hungry ugliness away 
 
 To lands where he'll be sure to stay, 
 
 Shall be a knight and have a key 
 
 That fits the royal treasury.' " 
 
 The man went forth straightway and tried 
 
 His voice upon the countryside. 
 
 The Basilisk, in great surprise. 
 
 Woke up and almost blinked his eyes ; 
 
 He wished so much to see who kept 
 
 This racket going while he slept. 
 
 At last before he noticed it, 
 
 His eyelids opened just a slit ; 
 
 A little blaze, a little whir — 
 
 The King had lost his messenger ! 
 * ' Alas the day ! ' ' bewailed the King, 
 *' I see my finish in this thing. 
 
 The Council can convene no more 
 
 For fear the Basilisk may roar. 
 
46 THE BOY AND THE BASILISK 
 
 The soldiers are of no avail ; 
 You can't expect them not to quail 
 When thinking of the awful risk 
 In war against the Basilisk." 
 
 Just then, a half grown Boy alone 
 Came in and walked up to the throne, 
 And said : " Your Majesty, I heard 
 Your proclamation. I am stirred 
 To undertake to overwhelm 
 The beast that now despoils the realm." 
 The King considered for a while 
 And raised his hand to hide a smile. 
 But though His Royal Highness smiled, 
 'Most any plan however wild, 
 Seemed in this dire emergency 
 Worth trying ; therefore a decree 
 Went forth at once to authorize 
 This Boy's unusual enterprise. 
 "Farewell, my Boy," called out the King, 
 "And may you overcome the thing ! " 
 * * Prepare ' ' said he, * ' a burial urn 
 To hold this youth on his return." 
 
 The Boy took neither bow nor spear, 
 Nor any other warlike gear. 
 A basket, broom and tin dustpan 
 Were carried by a serving man. 
 
THE BOY AND THE BASHISK 47 
 
 Two others carried on before 
 A mirror large as any door. 
 Thus they went forth along the way 
 Frequented by this beast of prey. 
 With mirror set and polished clear, 
 The party waited in the rear. 
 The Monster came ; they could not see, 
 But hearing made them wish to flee. 
 He blindly stumbled up before 
 The mirror ; then he heard a roar ; 
 He stopped ; his eyelids slowly raised ; 
 His eyes, uncovered, fairly blazed ; 
 He saw himself ; he winked — too late ! 
 His mirrored glance had sealed his fate. 
 A great black smoke, a flame, a boom. 
 Some ashes swept up with a broom ! 
 The fearsome Basilisk had died, 
 Against his will, by suicide. 
 His ashes occupied the urn 
 Prepared against the Boy's return. 
 
 And when the Boy grew up he chose 
 The Princess for his bride and rose 
 To occupy the throne in state 
 When Basilisks were out of date. 
 
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