Read Ebook: In My Nursery by Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe

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Ebook has 583 lines and 36299 words, and 12 pages

? 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.

The forty little ducklings who lived up at the farm, They said unto each other, "Oh! the day is very warm!" They said unto each other, "Oh! the river's very cool! The duck who did not seek it now would surely be a fool."

The forty little ducklings, they started down the road; And waddle, waddle, waddle, was the gait at which they goed. The same it is not grammar,--you may change it if you choose,-- But one cannot stop for trifles when inspired by the Muse.

They waddled and they waddled and they waddled on and on. Till one remarked, "Oh! deary me, where is the river gone? We asked the Ancient Gander, and he said 'twas very near. He must have been deceiving us, or else himself, I fear."

They waddled and they waddled, till no further they could go: Then down upon a mossy bank they sat them in a row. They took their little handkerchiefs and wept a little weep, And then they put away their heads, and then they went to sleep.

There came along a farmer, with a basket on his arm, And all those little duckylings he took back to the farm. He put them in their little beds, and wished them sweet repose, And fastened mustard plasters on their little webby toes.

Next day these little ducklings, they were very very ill. Their mother sent for Doctor Quack, who gave them each a pill; But soon as they recovered, the first thing that they did, Was to peck the Ancient Gander, till he ran away and hid.

THE MOUSE.

No mischief at all I intend, Ma'am. I hope you will act as my friend, Ma'am. If my life you should take, Many hearts it would break, And the mischief would be without end, Ma'am.

My wife lives in there, in the crack, Ma'am, She's waiting for me to come back, Ma'am. She hoped I might find A bit of a rind, For the children their dinner do lack, Ma'am.

I never was given to strife, Ma'am,-- The noise overhead That disturbs you in bed, 'Tis the rats, I will venture my life, Ma'am.

A VALENTINE.

Oh, little loveliest lady mine! What shall I send for your valentine? Summer and flowers are far away, Gloomy old Winter is king to-day, Buds will not blow, and sun will not shine; What shall I do for a valentine?

Prithee, Saint Valentine, tell me here, Why do you come at this time o' year? Plenty of days when lilies are white, Plenty of days when sunbeams are bright; But now, when everything's dark and drear, Why do you come, Saint Valentine dear?

I've searched the gardens all through and through, For a bud to tell of my love so true; But buds are asleep, and blossoms are dead, And the snow beats down on my poor little head; So, little loveliest lady mine, Here is my heart for your valentine.

JAMIE IN THE GARDEN.

How is a little boy to know About these berries all, That ripen all the summer through, From spring-time until fall?

I must not eat them till they're ripe, I know that very well; But each kind ripens differently, So how am I to tell?

Though strawberries and raspberries, When ripe, are glowing red, Red blackberries I must not touch, Mamma has lately said.

And though no one of these is fit To touch when it is green, Ripe gooseberries, as green as grass, At Grandpapa's I've seen.

And peas are green when they are ripe; Some kinds of apples too. But they're not berries; neither are These currants, it is true.

These currants, now! why, some are red, And some are brilliant green. "Don't eat unripe ones!" said Mamma. But which ones did she mean?

SOMEBODY'S BOY .

When he was up he cried to get down, And when he was in he cried to get out; And no little boy in Boston town Was ever so ready to fret and pout. Poutsy, oh! And fretsy, oh! And spend the whole day in a petsy, oh! And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can!

When he was cold he cried to be warm, And when he was warm he cried to be cold; And all the morning 'twas scold and storm, And all the evening 'twas storm and scold. Stormy, oh! And scoldy, oh! And never do what he was toldy, oh! And what shall we do to this bad little man, But scold him as hard as we possibly can!

BOGY.

His eyes are green and his nose is brown, His feet go up and his head goes down, And so he goes galloping through the town, The king of the Hobbledygoblins. His heels stick out and his toes stick in, He wears his mustaches upon his chin, And he glares about with a horrible grin, The king of the Hobbledygoblins.

No naughty boys can escape his eyes; He clutches them, 'spite of their tears and sighs, And away at a terrible pace he hies To his castle of Killemaneetem; There he shuts them up under lock and key, And feeds them on blacking and grasshopper tea, And if ever they try to get out, you see, Why, this is the way he'll treat 'em.

Now, Johnny and Tommy, you'd better look out! All day you've done nothing but quarrel and pout, And nobody knows what it's all about, But it gives me a great deal of pain, dears. So, Johnny and Tommy, be good, I pray, Or the king will be after you some fine day, And off to his castle he'll whisk you away, And we never shall see you again, dears!

THE MERMAIDENS.

The little white mermaidens live in the sea, In a palace of silver and gold; And their neat little tails are all covered with scales, Most beautiful for to behold.

On wild white horses they ride, they ride, And in chairs of pink coral they sit; They swim all the night, with a smile of delight, And never feel tired a bit.

THE PHRISKY PHROG

Now list, oh! list to the piteous tale Of the Phrisky Phrog and the Sylvan Snayle; Of their lives and their loves, their joys and their woes, And all about them that any one knows.

The Phrog lived down in a grewsome bog, The Snayle in a hole in the end of a log; And they loved each other so fond and true, They didn't know what in the world to do.

For the Snayle declared 'twas too cold and damp For a lady to live in a grewsome swamp; While her lover replied, that a hole in a log Was no possible place for a Phrisky Phrog.

"Come down! come down, my beautiful Snayle! With your helegant horns and your tremulous tail; Come down to my bower in the blossomy bog, And be happy with me," said the Phrisky Phrog.

"Come up, come up, to my home so sweet, Where there's plenty to drink, and the same to eat; Come up where the cabbages bloom in the vale, And be happy with me," said the Sylvan Snayle.

But he wouldn't come, and she wouldn't go, And so they could never be married, you know; Though they loved each other so fond and true, They didn't know what in the world to do.

THE AMBITIOUS CHICKEN.

It was an Easter chicken So blithesome and so gay; He peeped from out his plaster shell All on an Easter Day.

His wings were made of yellow down, His eyes were made of beads; He seemed, in very sooth, to have All that a chicken needs.

He winked and blinked and peeped about, And to himself he said, "When first a chicken leaves the shell, Of course he must be fed.

He winked and blinked and peeped about, Till in a corner sly He saw a heap of golden corn Piled on a platter high.

"Now, this is well!" the chicken cried; "Now, this is well, in sooth. This corn shall nourish and sustain My faint and tender youth.

"And I shall grow and grow apace, And come to high estate, With mighty feathers in my tail, And combs upon my pate.

"To see my beauty and my grace The feathered race will flock, And all will bow them low before The mighty Easter Cock."

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