ï~~'w. ï~~BOOKS IL L Y Ki ATE D DY CI ARLFE N OIIN 5ON. LULLABY-LAND A A BY EUGENE FIELD 5% 5% 5 A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. BY R. L. STEVENSON.ft % 5A% " Mr. Robinson's drawings have an imaginative quality as rare as it is pleasurable to discover, a quality that children themselves are very quick to recognize, and that when set before them in appropriate, graphic form, is one of the most important of all aids to their intellectual development."-Boston Beacon. ï~~gQ z U gy m a L s - ' Y + r rYsr ".mI Sw 0144 t [ a ï~~COPYRIGHT, 1892 AND 1897. BY JULIA SUTHERLAND FIELD. 1892, BY MARY FRENCH FIELD. 1893 AND 1894, BY EUGENE FIELD. ï~~(; ) 0. ï~~I/ ï~~There is a sort of a gardenor rather an estate, of park and fallow and waste-nay, perhaps we may call it a kingdom, albeit a noman's-land and an everyman's land- which lies so close to the frontier of our work-a-day world that a step will take us therein. Indeed, 7 ï~~PREFACE some will have it that we are there all the time, that it is the real fourth dimension, and that at any moment-if we did but know the trick-we might find ourselves trotting along its pleasant alleys, without once quitting our arm-chair. Nonsense-Land is one of the names painted up on the board at the frontier-station; and there the custom-house officers are very strict. rou may take as much tobacco as you please, any quantity of spirits, and fripperies of every sort, new and old; but all common-sense, all logic, all serious argument, must strictly be declared, and is promptly confiscated. Once safely across the border, it is with no surprise at all that you greet the Lead Soldier strutting somewhat stiffly to meet you, the Dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels following afably at his heel; on the banks of the streams little 7ohnny-head-inair is perpetually being hauled out of the water; while the plaintive voice of the Gryphon is born6 inland from the margin of the sea. Most people, at one time or another, have travelled in this delectable country, if only in young and irresponsible days. Certain unfortunates, unequipped by nature for a voyage 8 ï~~PREFACE in such latitudes, have never visited it at all, and assuredly never will. A happy few never quit it entirely at any time. Domiciled in that pleasant atmosphere, they peep into the world of facts but fitfully, at moments; and decline to sacrifce their high privilege of citizenship at any summons to a low conformity. Of this fortunate band was Eugene Field. He knew the country thoroughly, its highways and its byways alike. Its language was the one he was fondest of talking; and he always refused to emigrate and to settle down anywhere else. As soon as he set himself to narrate the goings-on there, those of us who had been tourists in bygone days, but had lost our return-tickets, pricked up our ears, and listened, and remembered, and knew. 'I'he Dinkey-Bird, we recollected at once, had been singing, the day we left, in the amfalula-tree; and there, of course, he must have been singing ever since, only we had forgotten the way to listen. Eugene Field gently reminded us, and the Dinkey-Bird was vocal once more, to be silent never again. Shut-Eye T'rain had been starting every night with the utmost punctuality; it was ï~~PREFACE we who had long ago lost our way to the booking-office (I really do not know the American for booking-office). Now we can hurry up the platform whenever we please, and hear the doors slam and the whistle toot as we sink back on those first-class cushions / And the Chocolate Cat, - why, of course the cats were all chocolate then! And how pleasantly brittle their tails were, and how swiftly, though culled and sucked each day, they sprouted afresh! It is an engaging theory, that we are all of us just as well informed as the great philosophers, poets, wits, who are getting all the glory; only unfortunately our memories are not equally good- we forget, we forget so terribly! Those belauded gentlemen, termed by our fathers " makers "-creators, to wit - they are only reminders after all: flappers, Gulliver would have called them. The parched peas in their gaily-painted bladders rattle with reminiscences as they flap us on the ears; and at once we recall what we are rightly abashed beyond measure to have for one instant forgotten. At any rate, it is only when the writer comes along who strikes a new clear note, who does a 10 ï~~PREFACE thing both true and fresh, that we say to ourselves, not only " How I wish I had done that myself! "- but also "And I would have done it, too -if only I had remembered it in time! " Perhaps this is one of the tests of originality. Of course I am touching upon but one side of Eugene Field the writer. An American of Americans, much of his verse was devoted to the celebration of what we may call the minor joys which go to make social happiness in the life he lived with so frank and rounded a completion - a celebration which appealed to his countrymen no less keenly, that the joys were of a sort which, perhaps from some false sense of what makes fitness in subject, had hitherto lacked their poet -on that side at least. 'his, of course, was the fault of the poets. And though I spoke just now of minor joys, there are really no such things as minor joys - or minor thrushes and blackbirds. Fortunately this other aspect does not need to be considered here. I say fortunately, because it is not given to a writer to know more than one Land-to know it intimately, that is to say, so as to dare to write about it. 9'his is the Law 11 ï~~PREFACE and the Prophets. Even that most native utterance, which sings of "the clink of the ice in the pitcher that the boy brings up the hall," appeals to us but faintly, at second-hand. Vhat pitcher does not clink in England. In this spheral existence all straight lines, sufficiently prolonged, prove to be circles: and a line of thought is no exception. We are back at the point we started from - the consideration of Eugene Field as a citizen; of a sort of a cloud-country, to start with; and later, of a land more elemental. In either capacity we find the same note, of the joy of lfe. We find the same honest resolve, to accept the rules and to play out the game accordingly; the same conviction, that the game is in itself a good one, well worth the playing. And so, with no misgiving, he takes his America with just the same heartiness as his Nonsenseland. I'he little boy who should by rights have been lost in the forest, by the white pebbles he had warily dropped found his way back safely to sunlight and to home; and to keep in touch with earth is at least to ensure progression in 12 ï~~PREFACE temperate and sweet-breathed atmosphere, as well as in a certain zone, and that no narrow one, of appreciation; the appreciation of our fellows, the world over; those who, whatever their hemisphere, daily find themselves pricked by a common sun, with the same stimulus for every cuticle, towards pleasures surprisingly similar. KENNETH GRAHIME. 13 ï~~. ï~~P va o - ngs goo The Rock-a-By Lady Garden and Cradle The Night Wind 10 Page 21 29 85 ï~~CONTENTS The Dinkey-Bird Page 44 'So, so, Rock-a-by sol 47 The Duel 53 Good- Children Street 59 The Bottle Tree 65 Lady Button-Eyes 71 -The Ride to Bumpville 79 Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks 85 -The Shut-Eye Train 91 Little- Oh-Dear 99 The Fly-Away Horse 105 "Fidle-Dee-Dee" 113 I'vm"Wth 11-am peand- D rum)." The Sugar-Plum Tree Page 123 Krinken 131 Pittypat and Tippytoe 137 Little Blue Pigeon 145 Teeny- Weeny 151 16 ï~~CONTENTS Buttercup, Poppy, Forget-me-not Page 159 Wynkcen, Blynken, and Nod 165 Little Mistress Sasns-Merci 173 Hi-Spy 179 7t V I+ ' 4.i.., l ' ï~~0 ï~~epul ï~~I ï~~.NIGIT WINIDI H AVE you ever heard the wind go " Yooooo"? 'Tis a pitiful sound to hear! It seems to chill you through and through With a strange and speechless fear. 'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside When folks should be asleep, 37 ï~~THE NIGHT WIND And many and many 's the time I've cried To the darkness brooding far and wide Over the land and the deep: " Whom do you want, O lonely night, That you wail the long hours through?" And the night would say in its ghostly way: " Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo I " My mother told me long ago (When I was a little tad) That when the night went wailing so, Somebody had been bad; And then, when I was snug in bed, Whither I had been sent, With the blankets pulled up round my head, I'd think of what my mother'd said, And wonder what boy she meant! And "Who's been bad to-day? " I'd ask Of the wind that hoarsely blew, And the voice would say in its meaningful way. "Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo I " 38 ï~~.L ] " II J y -+f 1r F // / 1 1 y a t -7 A k t Qr 1 Â~ r ay b t 1,ainl I r yry7 f._ at IJ g r} \S 4 al.=!,fir 4 f UG +...a F " r {}iI ' I G.! "' [ \ Ir V \ Â~ i]- S -A r y f:t r i 1 x ( '+, 'Tyy.$ 'Gp J.eLR 'P I}t.,yl t r ' { 8 7 i 1 I r Ifl IJI 9 i ' ~ J Y IAj M _ y A y rye 'F y "k ' [ 1 q r' 1{ i ï~~THE NIGHT WIND That this was true I must allow - You'll not believe it, though! Yes, though I'm quite a model now, I was not always so. And if you doubt what things I say, Suppose you make the test; Suppose, when you've been bad some day And up to bed are sent away From mother and the rest - Suppose you ask, " Who has been bad?" And then you'll hear what's true; For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone: "Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo I " 40 ï~~The~ Dinke: Bird. ï~~3 ï~~k -!1. (~4~ ~7~t VJf ~mrDINKEY I N an ocean, 'way out yonder (As all sapient people know), 43 ï~~THE DINKEY-BIRD Is the land of Wonder-Wander, Whither children love to go; It's their playing, romping, swinging, That give great joy to me While the Dinkey-Bird goes singing In the amfalula tree! There the gum-drops grow like cherries, And taffy 's thick as peas - Caramels you pick like berries When, and where, and how you please; Big red sugar-plums are clinging To the cliffs beside that sea Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing In the amfalula tree. 44 ï~~THE DINKEY-BIRD So when children shout and scamper And make merry all the day, When there's naught to put a damper To the ardor of their play; When I hear their laughter ringing, Then I'm sure as sure can be That the Dinkey-Bird is singing In the amfalula tree. For the Dinkey-Bird's bravuras And staccatos are so sweet - His roulades, appoggiaturas, And robustos so complete, That the youth of every nation - Be they near or far away - Have especial delectation In that gladsome roundelay. Their eyes grow bright and brighter, Their lungs begin to crow, Their hearts get light and lighter, And their cheeks are all aglow; For an echo cometh bringing The news to all and me, That the Dinkey-Bird is singing In the amfalula tree. 45 ï~~THE DINKEY-BIRD I'm sure you like to go there To see your feathered friend - And so many goodies grow there You would like to comprehend! Speed, little dreams, your winging To that land across the sea Where the Dinkey-Bird is singing In the amfautla tree! ï~~v" 6 1n 6 ï~~0 ï~~S~OSO,ROCK-A-BY, SO SO, so, rock-a-by so! Off to the garden where dreamikins grow; And here is a kiss on your winkyblink eyes, And here is a kiss on your dim pledown cheek 49 ï~~SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO And here is a kiss for the treasure that lies In the beautiful garden way up in the skies Which you seek. Now mind these three kisses wherever you go - So, so, rock-a-by so! There's one little fumfay who lives there, 1 know, For he dances all night where the dreamikins grow; I send him this kiss on your droopydrop eyes, I send him this kiss on your rosy-red cheek. And here is a kiss for the dream that shall rise When the fumfay shall dance in those far-away skies Which you seek. Be sure that you pay those three kisses you owe - So, so, rock-a-by so! A nd, by-low, as you rock-a-by go, Don't forget mother who loveth you so! And here is her kiss on your weepydeep eyes, And here is her kiss on your peachypink cheek, 50 ï~~SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO 51 ï~~SO, SO, ROCK-A-BY SO And here is her kiss for the dreamland that lies Like a babe on the breast of those far-away skies Which you seek - The blinkywink garden where dreamikins grow - So, so, rock-a-by so! 52 ï~~.^ 4 \4 VA,ti. ï~~ ï~~A THEX THE gingham dog and the calico cat Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink! 55 ï~~THE DUEL The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat. (I wasn't there; I simply state What was told me by the Chinese plate 1) The gingham dog went " bow-wow-wow I " And the calico cat replied " mee-ow! " The air was littered, an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place Up with its hands before its face, For it always dreaded a family row! (Now mind: I'm only telling you What the old Dutch clock declares is true 1) The Chinese plate looked very blue, And wailed, " Oh, dear! what shall we do?" But the gingham dog and the calico cat Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw In the awfullest way you ever saw - And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! (Don't fancy I exaggerate! I got my news from the Chinese plate!) 56 ï~~k \ ï~~THE DUEL Next morning, where the two had sat, They found no trace of dog or cat; And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole that pair away! But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: they ate each other up! Now what do you really think of that! (The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know.) 58 ï~~Good Children 5Stre. ï~~ ï~~0O DA CHILRET. T HERE'S a dear little home in Good-Children street - My heart turneth fondly to-day Where tinkle of tongues and patter of feet Make sweetest of music at play; Where the sunshine of love illumines each face And warms every heart in that old-fashioned place. 61 ï~~GOOD-CHILDREN STREET For dear little children go romping about With dollies and tin tops and drums, And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shout Till bedtime too speedily comes! 6 62 ï~~GOOD-CHILDREN STREET Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet With little folk living in Good-Children street. See, here comes an army with guns painted red, And swords, caps, and plumes of all sorts; The captain rides gaily and proudly ahead On a stick-horse that prances and snorts! Oh, legions of soldiers you're certain to meet - Nice make-believe soldiers - in Good-Children street. And yonder Odette wheels hei dolly about - Poor dolly! I'm sure she is ill, For one of her blue china eyes has dropped out And her voice is asthmatic'ly shrill. Then, too, I observe she is minus her feet, Which causes much sorrow in Good-Children street. 'Tis so the dear children go romping about With dollies and banners and drums, And I venture to say they are sadly put out 63 ï~~GOOD-CHILDREN STREET When an end to their jubilee comes: Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleet With little folk living in Good-Children street! 64. ï~~m ï~~ ï~~Tri WBOTTL. TREE. A BOTTLE TREE bloometh in Winkyway land - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship I demand That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; ï~~THE BOTTLE TREE You take of that fruit as much as you list, For colic 's a nuisance that doesn't exist! "Heigh-ho for a bottle, 1 saN!" So cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast, And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, 68 ï~~THE BOTTLE TREE For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! * * * of bonk tre babies expand," The Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day! Heigh-ho for Winkyway land! 69 ï~~THE BOTTLE TREE And Bottle-Tree fruit (as I've heard people say) Makes bellies of Bottle-Tree babies expand And that is a trick I would fain understand! Heigh-ho for a bottle to-day! And heigh-ho for a bottle to-night - A bottle of milk that is creamy and white I So cuddle me close, and cuddle me fast, And cuddle me snug in my cradle away, For I hunger and thirst for that precious repast - Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! 70 ï~~Lady. B~utton- ' yc.5 ï~~ ï~~LADY ITTTN-EYLS WHEN the busy day is done, And my weary little one 73 ï~~LADY BUTTON-EYES Rocketh gently to and fro; When the night winds softly blow, And the crickets in the glen Chirp and chirp and chirp again; When upon the haunted green Fairies dance around their queen - Then from yonder misty skies Cometh Lady Button-Eyes Through the murk and mist and gloam To our quiet, cozy home, Where to singing, sweet and low, Rocks a cradle to and fro; Where the clock's dull monotone Telleth of the day that 's done; Where the moonbeams hover o'er Playthings sleeping on the floor - Where my weary wee one lies Cometh Lady B itton-Eyes. Cometh like a fleeting ghost From some distant eerie coast; Never footfall can you hear As that spirit fareth near - 74 ï~~I (1 7 46 THEN FROM YONDER MISTY SKIES COMETH LADY BUTTON-EYES" ï~~LADY BUTTON-EYES Never whisper, never word From that shadow-queen is heard. In ethereal raiment dight, From the realm of fay and sprite In the depth of yonder skies Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. Layeth she her hands upon My dear weary little one, And those white hands overspread Like a veil the curly head, Seem to fondle and caress Every little silken tress; Then she smooths the eyelids down Over those two eyes of brown - In such soothing, tender wise Cometh Lady Button-Eyes. Dearest, feel upon your brow That caressing magic now; For the crickets in the glen Chirp and chirp and chirp again, While upon the haunted green Fairies dance around their queen, 76 ï~~LADY BUTTON-EYES And the moonbeams hover o'er Playthings sleeping on the floorHush, my sweet! from yonder skies Cometh Lady Button-Eyes! TT ï~~b ï~~":_Opp. o ï~~I ï~~ii THE RIDL TO DUMIVILLE. PLAY that my knee was a calico mare Saddled and bridled for Bumpville; Leap to the back of this steed if you dare, And gallop away to Bumpville! 81 ï~~THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE I hope you'll be sure to sit fast in your seat, For this calico mare is prodigiously fleet, And many adventures you're likely to meet As you journey along to Bumpville. This calico mare both gallops and trots While whisking you off to Bumpville; She paces, she shies, and she stumbles, in spots, In the tortuous road to Bumpville; And sometimes this strangely mercurial steed Will suddenly stop and refuse to proceed, Which, all will admit, is vexatious indeed, When one is en route to Bumpville! 82 ï~~THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE She's scared of the cars when the engine goes " Toot! " Down by the crossing at Bumpville; You'd better look out for that treacherous brute Bearing you off to Bumpville! With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels, And executes jigs and Virginia reels - Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels Dancing so wildly to Bumpville! It's bumpytybump and it's jiggityjog, Journeying on to Bumpville; It's over the hilltop and down through the bog You ride on your way to Bumpville; It's rattletybang over boulder and stump, There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump, And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump, Mile after mile to Bumpville! Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing Making the journey to Bumpville, So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring An end to this ride to Bumpville; 83 ï~~THE RIDE TO BUMPVILLE For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint, The calico mare must be blowing and faint - What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't! So play we have got to Bumpville! ï~~Shufftce Shoon and AmberLockv) ï~~i ï~~5"urFLE-SIIOON ANDS AMBEKwLOCKS S HUFFLE-SHOON and Amber-Locks Sit together, building blocks; Shuffle-Shoon is old and grey, Amber-Locks a little child, But together at their play Age and Youth are reconciled, And with sympathetic glee Build their castles fair to see. 87 ï~~SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKE 1 When I grow to be a man " (So the wee one's prattle ran), "I shall build a castle so - With a gateway broad and grand; Here a pretty vine shall grow, There a soldier guard shall stand; And the tower shall be so high, Folks will wonder, by-and-by 1 " 88 ï~~SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS Shuffle-Shoon quoth: " Yes, I know; Thus I builded long ago! Here a gate and there a wall, Here a window, there a door; Here a steeple wondrous tall Riseth ever more and more! But the years have levelled low What I builded long ago I " 89 ï~~SHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS So they gossip at their play, Heedless of the fleeting day; One speaks of the Long Ago Where his dead hopes buried lie; One with chubby cheeks aglow Prattleth of the By-and-By; Side by side, they build their blocks - Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks. -w 90 ï~~K I C K. ï~~1\ ï~~T 11 3HUThYL TRAIN. OME, my little one, with me! There are wondrous sights to see 93 ï~~THE SHUT-EYE 'TRAIN As the evening shadows fall; In your pretty cap and gown, Don't detain The Shut-Eye train - "Ting-a-ling! " the bell it goeth, "Toot-toot! " the whistle bloweth, And we hear the warning call: " All aboard for Shut-Eye Town 1 " Over hill and over plain Soon will speed the Shut-Eye train! Through the blue where bloom the stars And the Mother Moon looks down We'll away To land of Fay - Oh, the sights that we shall see there! Come, my little one, with me there - 'Tis a goodly train of cars - All aboard for Shut-Eye Town! Swifter than a wild bird's flight, Through the realms of fleecy light We shall speed and speed away! Let the Night in envy frown -,94 ï~~THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN What care we How wroth she be! e' TO THE BALOW-FOLK WHO LOVE US To the Balow-land above us, To the Balow-folk who love us, Let us hasten while we may - All aboard for Shut-Eye Town / 95 ï~~THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN Shut-Eye Town is passing fair - Golden dreams await us there; We shall dream those dreams, my dear, Till the Mother Moon goes down - See unfold Delights untold! And in those mysterious places We shall see beloved faces 96 ï~~THE SHUT-EYE TRAIN And beloved voices hear In the grace of Shut-Eye Town. Heavy are your eyes, my sweet, Weary are your little feet - Nestle closer up to me In your pretty cap and gown; Don't detain The Shut-Eye train! "Ting-a-ling! " the bell it goeth, "Toot-toot! " the whistle bloweth; Oh, the sights that we shall see1 All aboard for Shut-Eye TownI 97 ï~~a ï~~Llte" Oh-Ibear. ï~~_- "" _. +. '.... ï~~LIT TLE- ODEAF SEE, what a wonderful garden is here, Planted and trimmed for my Little-Oh-Dear! 101 ï~~LITTLE-OH-DEAR Posies so gaudy and grass of such brown - Search ye the country and hunt ye the town And never ye'll meet with a garden so queer As this one I've made for my Little-Oh-Dear I Marigolds white and buttercups blue, Lilies all dabbled with honey and dew, The cactus that trails over trellis and wall, Roses and pansies and violets - all Make proper obeisance and reverent cheer When into her garden steps Little-Oh-Dear I And up at the top of that lavender-tree A silver-bird singeth as only can she; For, ever and only, she singeth the song " I love you - I love you! " the happy day long; - Then the echo - the echo that smiteth me here! " I love you, I love you," my Little-Oh-Dear! The garden may wither, the silver-bird fly - But what careth my little precious, or I? 102 ï~~dW, 4.. t % T t S 'A SILVER-BIRD SINGETH AS ONLY CAN SHE" ï~~LITTLE-OH-DEAR From her pathway of flowers that in spring-time upstart She walketh the tenderer way in my heart; And, oh, it is always the summer-time here With that song of " I love you," my Little-Oh. Dear! 104 ï~~0 ï~~Ito ï~~TitL rLYAWAY HOKRM. O H, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse - Perhaps you have seen him before; Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept Through the moonlight that floats on the floor. 107 ï~~THE FLY-AWAY HORSE For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright, That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane, Is up on his heels and away! The Moon in the sky, As he gallopeth by, Cries: " Oh! what a marvellous sight! " And the Stars in dismay Hide their faces away In the lap of old Grandmother Night. It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse Speedeth ever and ever away - Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains, Over streamlets that sing at their play; And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he, While the ships they go sailing below, And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast Adjudge him some portent of woe. " What ho there! " they cry, As he flourishes by 108 ï~~1/ "THE MOON IN THE SKY, AS HE GALLOPETH BY, CRIES: ' OH! WHAT A MARVELLOUS SIGHT!" ï~~THE FLY-AWAY HORSE With a whisk of his beautiful tail; And the fish in the sea Are as scared as can be, From the nautilus up to the whale! And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands You little folk dream of at night - Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow, And corn-fields with popcorn are white; And the beasts in the wood are ever so good To children who visit them there - What glory astride of a lion to ride, Or to wrestle around with a bear! The monkeys, they say: ' Come on, let us play," 110 ï~~THE FLY-AWAY HORSE And they frisk in the cocoa-nut trees: While the parrots, that cling To the peanut-vines, sing Or converse with comparative ease! Off! scamper to bed - you shall ride him to-night! For, as soon as you've fallen asleep, With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away Over forest and hillside and deep! But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear In those beautiful lands over there, Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course With the wee one consigned to his care. Then grandma will cry In amazement: " Oh, my! " 111 ï~~THE FLY-AWAY HORSE And she'll think it could never be so; And only we two Shall know it is true - You and I, little precious! shall know! 112 ï~~F'iddle - Dcc -D)cc. ï~~ ï~~FIDDLE- DEE*DE-TS T HERE once was a bird that lived up in a tree, And all he could whistle was " Fiddle-dee-dee " A very provoking, unmusical song For one to be whistling the summer day long! Yet always contented and busy was he With that vocal recurrence of " Fiddle-dee-dee." 115 ï~~FIDDLE-DEE-DEE Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four, That weird iteration repented him sore; 1W our St Ddy I the deed mutt x done' 116 ï~~FIDDLE-DEE-DEE "tI prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun, For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done That shall presently rid all creation and me Of that ominous bird and his ' Fiddle-dee-dee' I " Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son His awfully truculent little red gun; The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin, The " bang" it came out where the bullet went in - The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree For slaying all fowl that go " Fiddle-dee-dee "! The brave little soldier quoth never a word, But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird; And, while that vain creature provokingly sang, The gun it went off with a terrible bang! 117 ï~~FIDDLE-DEE-DEE Then loud laughed the youth -" By my Bottle,' cried he, "I've put a quietus on ' Fiddle-dee-dee' '1 "bang"4 it came out Where the bullet went in-" 118 ï~~FIDDLE-D EE-D EE Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son,