FACTS IN JINGLES

Winifred, age twelve, with her trained bird, Okikusan

FACTS IN JINGLES

By

WINIFRED SACKVILLE STONER, JR.

(Written Between the Ages of Five and Twelve)

INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright 1915
The Bobbs-Merrill Company

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PRESS OF
BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOK MANUFACTURERS
BROOKLYN, N. Y.

Dedicated
to
Miss Katharine O'Shea
of
Madison, Wisconsin

INTRODUCTION

These jingles were written by a child for children. The young author does not expect that any one will imagine they were intended to be a contribution to poetry or literature. They will be of interest to adults principally as an illustration of the way a child's mind views some of the every-day situations of life. Grown people will also be interested to see how easily a young child can put facts into the jingle form when freedom of expression is acquired early.

Those who have read Mrs. Stoner's Natural Education will recall that Winifred learned almost as a babe to use the typewriter. This helped her in her spelling and composition, so that she gained ease and freedom in expressing herself on any topic that she understood. She wrote out everything she learned so that she might the better get a grasp of it and remember it. And she found that when some kinds of facts were put together in a jingle they could be fixed with less effort and retained more securely than if they were learned in the ordinary way—by rote and without any method of organization.

Rhyme and rhythm seem to furnish to the young mind an easy and effective method of relating and expressing facts ordinarily dissociated from anything of interest to a child. As long as such facts are presented to the young in home and school, the jingle will prove of service to teachers and parents, and of interest and value to children. In addition, some of these jingles will delight the young merely because of their rhythmical quality, while others will afford amusement because of the humorous interpretation they put on many of the events that are daily experienced by children everywhere.

Any adult who may read these jingles should be informed that many of them were written when Winifred was hardly more than a babe. And all of them were dashed off without effort to achieve poetic merit. One characteristic that makes them of interest is their spontaneity. As an illustration of the readiness with which Winifred can construct a jingle, I may say that when she was twelve years of age, I happened one day to read her the following essay on Bones written by a pupil:

"Bones is the framework of the body. If I had no bones in me, I should not have so much shape as I have now. If I had no bones my brain, heart, lungs, and larger blood vessels would be lying around in me, and might get hurt. If my bones were burned I should be brittle, because it would take the animal out of me. If I was soaked in acid I should be limber. I'd rather be soaked than burned. Some of my bones don't grow close to my others snug like the branches to the trunk of a tree. The reason why they don't grow that way is because they have joints. Joints is good things to have in bones. All my bones put together make a skeleton. Some animals have their skeleton on the outside. I am glad I am not them animals, for my skeleton like it is on the chart would not look very well on my outside."

I asked her if she would put the essay into a rhyme. She ran off to her typewriter, and in twelve minutes came back with the jingle, I'm glad I'm not an Exo. It is published exactly as she handed it to me, without change in content or in form.

Mrs. Stoner's Natural Education describes in detail how Winifred has been educated up to this point in her career. This book of jingles presents some concrete evidence of the results of Mrs. Stoner's method of teaching freedom of expression, and her many devices for assisting a child to retain more or less formal facts in history, the sciences, and so on. The book will prove of interest and help to children, and parents and teachers should be able to get suggestions and practical teaching devices from it.

M. V. O'Shea.

Madison, Wisconsin.

Ever since I was five years old my dear friends, the fairies, have whispered jingles to me as keys to Memory's storehouse. As these jingles have been of great assistance in my studies, I have asked my good publishers to put them in book form with the hope that they may help, or at least amuse, many girls and boys.

Winifred Sackville Stoner, Jr.

CONTENTS

FACTS IN JINGLES

A GREAT SURPRISE

On the nineteenth day of August, in the year of nineteen two,

Most kind and gracious Madame Stork right over Norfolk flew,

And brought to my dear mother there a wonderful surprise,

A little red-brown baby girl with large blackberry eyes.

Now mother, she had asked the stork to bring her greatest joy

And drop a bundle at her door containing a wee boy;

But when the stork made a mistake and brought just little me,

She thought that I was better far than any boy could be,

And wrapped me in the blanket which she'd planned for my wee brother

And which my dear "Ma Mie" had knit to help my busy mother.

She changed the name of Lionel to little Winifred,

And all the things for brother planned, she gave to me instead.

BRIDGET MAKES SPLIT PEA SOUP

"Bridget," asked the mistress, "whatever is the matter,

Nothing ready for our lunch excepting pancake batter?

Why, I invited guests to come for lunch at half-past one,

And they've been waiting all this time and yet there's nothing done."

"Well, mum," replied Miss Bridget, "the fault is all your own,

For split pea soup you ordered and, workin' here alone,

It's took me just two hours while tryin' just to split

Three hundred of these blarsted peas, which give me most a fit,

And as there's still three hundred, 'twill take two hours more

To split the pesky little things, shure as me name's MAHORE!"

THE CAREFUL MOTHER

Now come, dear John, and go to school,

I hope you know your every rule.

No, do not kiss me, Johnnie dear,

My mouth is full of germs I fear.

Love, as you walk along the street,

You must not pat each dog you meet.

Alas! you naughty, careless lad,

You've touched the cat, how sad, how sad!

For I must sterilize again

Your hands and face and books and pen.

Now, take each antiseptic glove

And quickly into each one shove

Your fingers which are prone to be

From dreaded germs—ah, never free.

Here's "SURE-GERM-KILLER" in a case.

Put some at once on hands and face,

For, oh, I fear those dreadful GERMS

May some day make you food for worms!

GROWING THINGS

My dearest friend, John M—, and I, at least our mothers say,

Are growing just as weeds will grow in April and in May.

John's legs they grow so very fast his pants they leave his knees,

His jackets get so very tight they burst if he dare sneeze.

His head grows large and larger, I suppose because of brains,

So when he wears his last year's cap, it causes lots of pains.

And I am such a growing thing, my dresses they won't last

More than a month before the spot marked by my knees is passed.

And when I had the measles and had to stay in bed,

You scarcely can believe me, but I grew from foot to head.

So everyone who saw me said that I had grown an inch,

And when I tried to wear my shoes, oh, my, but they did pinch!

But generally my shoes don't last until they are too small,

Because I kick the toes right out while playing at football.

GRANDPA'S HEAD TUMS FREW HIS HAIR

When Margaret was a youngster scarcely two years old,

At climbing chairs and tables this lass was very bold.

And one day when her grandpa was seated in his chair,

She climbed upon the rounded rungs as if they were a stair,

And looking at her grandpa's head, which fast was growing bald,

She cried out, "Dearest Grandpa, one time you must hab failed,

Or maybe you've been naughty and dot an awful scare,

Which taused the top ob yu's round head to tum right frew de hair."

SUSAN REWARDED FOR TWENTY YEARS' SERVICE

Professor Theophilus Socrates Snook

One day paid a visit to Susan, his cook,

And, beaming upon her with kindliest look,

Said, "Susan, my dear, please gaze at this book.

In here you may learn of elephantiasis,

And also the hookworm, uncinariasis;

Of craw-craw and chiggers, of ainhum and sprue,

And all that I've written about them is true.

Now, Susan, to me you've been faithful, my dear,

In keeping my house for many a year;

For years nearly twenty you've been now with me,

Cooking my victuals just as they should be,

And truly I think a reward I should pay

To one who has labored from day unto day.

So when I discovered a wondrous new germ,

Which causes young children to wiggle and squirm,

I thought that this bug for you I would name

And bring you great glory and honor and fame.

It's a wondrous discovery, this ungomariasis,

And so we will call it the SUSANBONPIASIS."

"No, thank you, your honor," said Susan Bawben,

"I had the bugs once and don't want 'em again.

And if you onsist upon callin' me BUGS,

I'll lave you alone wid your books and your drugs."

A WONDROUS GROWING BABY

FIRST LADY:

"Just now I heard a story, which sister says is true,

About a lovely baby which grew and grew and grew,

Because its mother fed it on full gallons of good milk,

So that it gained ten pounds a day and looked as fine as silk."

SECOND LADY:

"I don't believe the story, such diet it would kill

A poor wee darling baby—at least, 'twould make it ill."

FIRST LADY:

"'Tis true, most little babies would have burst and died—

But not so with this baby—'Ma Elephant's fond pride.'"

A JOKE ON ONKLO KARLO

Onklo Karlo, he's a duck, and I love him dearly,

'Cause he loves all little girls, amusing them so queerly

By catching in his mouth the nuts which he hurls in the air,

And making paper cones to stand just almost anywhere;

Or holding apples on a pole stuck right upon his nose,

And balancing the little girls just straight upon his toes.

He always has good candy—the kind I love to eat—

Made of delicious goodies that taste so nice and sweet.

He tells most wondrous stories of sky and land and sea,

And never seems to weary of pleasing little me;

And jokes, he knows so many his store will ne'er give out,

They make me laugh and giggle and sometimes even shout;

But here's a joke on Onklo—I wonder if he knows

That nails are hidden in his socks—of course, they're on his toes.

THE PEARL OF LAKES

Of all good Uncle Sam's great lakes,

LAKE ERIE is the best;

She is a pearl among all lakes

Of north, south, east or west

Her waters on a pleasant day

Dance gaily in the sun,

And ever seem to smile at me

And say, "Come, have some fun

Within my cool refreshing spray

Of waters bright and clear,

Oh, little girl, come right away,

And never have a fear!

There are no dread sea monsters here

Within my wide domain,

Where only best of 'Finny-kind'

Are e'er allowed to reign."

My little friend, sweet Jean, and I

Say, "Thank you, gracious Lake,

Well don our bathing suits and caps

And then a plunge will take

Right into your fresh cooling fount,

And then we'll be so clean

That not a soul would ever think

That PITTSBURGH we had seen."

THE MUSEUM'S FAT LADY

TEACHER TO TOMMY:

"Now, Tommy, please answer, and tell me at once,

Who is your father, you silly young dunce?"

TOMMY TO TEACHER:

Said Tommy, with tears gushing forth from his eyes,

"I know you're a lady w'at's most wondrous wise,

But I hates like the mischief to tell on poor Pa,

'Cause he's always good to both me and Ma,

But he is the fat lady w'at you may see

By goin' to Barnum's and payin' a fee."

PATTI LOU AT THE ZOO

My little Cousin Patti Lou

One day went to the Highland Zoo,

And there she saw an old ZEBU

Who looked at her and said, "Moo—moo!"

And ended with an awful "Oooooooooh!"

She saw also a funny GNU,

And said to him, "Well, how are you?"

But he would nothing say or do,

Not even grant, nor bray, nor mew.

She saw a polly as it flew,

And showed gay feathers, pink and blue,

But when she came this bird to woo,

Poll bit her finger almost through.

Near to this wicked Polly Chew

There lived a handsome, large HIBOU,

Which came from some fine foreign zoo,

And worked its head round like a screw.

The camel and the kangaroo,

With polar bears and brown bears, too,

And many birds to me quite new,

All made their home in this great zoo.

With elephants and tigers, too,

And a huge lion named KING FOO,

He paced his cage and said, "Grr—roo!"

As if he meant, "I will eat you!"

Near him a dove all pink and blue

So sweetly sang of love, "Coo—coo,"

While across the way MONK SNOOPLE SNOO

Swung by his tail and sneezed "Ca—choo!"

FURS LINED WITH KITTENS

Said a rich little girl, who was boasting one day,

"I'ze too many furs, so I throws them away;"

But her poor little friend, who fine furs had none,

In braggadocia could not be outdone,

And proudly she showed her little fur mittens

And said, "I'ze sum odders, do deys lined wid kittens."

MUCH LEARNING SAVES IGNATIUS

"Father," said learned Ignatius, as the strap was preparing to fall

Down on his trousersless bare-skin, "I don't mind a whipping at all,

But are you quite certain, dear father, the strap has been well sterilized?

For virulent germs in old leather are often concealed and disguised;

And surely by violent impact with textile and soft porous skin,

But lately exposed to the street's dust there's danger of entering in

Upon my most delicate system, and then comes the big doctor's fee,

So, dear father, show you're a wise man and touch not the strap upon me."

While the learned youth plead, lo! his father upon that dread strap loosed his hold,

And thus he escaped from a whipping, Ignatius the wise and the bold.

TWILIGHT

Of all the hours of day or night

Give me the twilight hour,

When little birds hide out of sight

And every sylvan bower

Is filled with their sweet good night song,

While darkness creeps apace

O'er all the bright blue sky along

And hides the sun's gold face.

That is the hour when Mother dear

Says, "Come, sweetheart," to me,

"And of the earth's great heroes hear

While sitting on my knee."

Upon her arm I rest my hand

And wondrous stories hear,

Until it's time to go to bed,

Tucked in by Mother dear.

A FIVE-FOOT SHELF OF SUMMER BOOKS

Whenever you're perspiring like a Gruyère cheese,

List to this list of cooling works which cannot fail to please:

Great Isaac Hayes's noted work upon the POLAR SEA,

How much with him this broiling day we all would like to be!

Or maybe in the SNOWBOUND realms we'd find still more delight

If Whittier, the poet great, would take us there to-night.

With Nansen in his tales of weird and far-off frozen lands,

Where no one needs be tortured by electric buzzing fans;

And Barrows' wondrous voyages in icy ARCTIC REGIONS,

Meeting monstrous icebergs each hour by the legions.

While each and all would love to get a nice big cooling box

Of the ARCTIC SUNBEAMS that are mentioned by S. Cox,

And ICY LANDS by Perry, Kane, Atkinson and Hall,

Sound so mighty tempting to us one and all.

Exploring parties to the North led by the hero Schley,

Oh, such a summer voyage how we would like to try!

And follow after Wrangell with snow up to our knees

Across Siberia's lonely plains to far-off NORTHERN SEAS.

While reading of the ICE FLOATS from Kennan and from Hohn,

We feel that we should have a shelf all of our very own,

And on it all these chilly works we there should keep on hand,

To take us when we're hot and cross to some cool northern land.

THE CAT EXTINCTED THE CANARY

"Josephine," asked the teacher, "can you tell to me

Any bird that's now extinct, but used on earth to be?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Jane," said Josephine, "our sweet canary, Jim,

Because the naughty pussy cat, she quite extincted him."

A BONY SONG

Eight and twenty bones, 'tis said,

Are located in my head.

In my trunk are fifty-four

That I add to my bone store;

While my limbs have plenty more—

Full one hundred twenty-four.

In my skull, the strong round box

Which protects my brains from knocks,

There are eight bones in its wall—

Glad I have them when I fall!

Occipital there is but one;

One ethmoid and wedge sphenoid one,

One frontal bone not very long—

Compared with oak just twice as strong.

Parietals there are but two,

Two temporals will also do.

Fourteen bones are in my face,

To know them not is a disgrace.

One lower jaw and upper two

Help me each day when I must chew.

Two turbinated shaped like cones,

Two nasal, malar, palate bones,

Two lachrymals and vomer one,

But very large bones there are none.

The smallest bones are in my ear

And help me when I wish to hear.

These bones so small, are hard to see—

The mallet, anvil, stapes wee.

My bony trunk it takes good care

Of all the organs hidden there.

Its spinal column very long

Has six and twenty bones so strong.

Small bones just seven it doth take

A neck or cervical to make,

With dorsals twelve and lumbars five,

I surely need if I would thrive;

With sacrum one and lots of ribs,

Fourteen true and ten called "fibs,"

One coccyx, sternum, hyoid small,

With two big hip bones—that is all.

Now in my limbs, just let me see,

I own a clavicle or key,

A scapula or shoulder blade,

And which for gold I wouldn't trade,

A humerus not meant for fun,

A radius and ulna one.

Eight carpals help to form my wrists.

Five metacarpals in my fist,

While all my fingers have each three

Phalanges that are strong but wee,

But my poor thumbs can only boast

Of two phalanges at the most.

My lower limbs are proud to own

A sturdy thigh or femur bone.

This useful bone is very long

And joined by a patella strong

To two stout bones within my leg,

One like a flute, one like a peg,

One as the fibula is known,

The other's called tibia bone.

My instep has just seven tarsals,

Shaped à la the eight wrist carpals,

While the five bones in my feet

With fourteen more the toes complete.

Thus each perfect person owns

Just two hundred and six bones.

LET THE BUMBLE BE

One day I saw a bumble bee bumbling on a rose,

And as I stood admiring him, he stung me on the nose.

My nose in pain it swelled so large it looked like a potato,

So Daddy said, though Mother thought 'twas more like a tomato.

And now, dear children, this advice, I hope you'll take from me,

And when you see a bumble bee, just let that bumble be.

GRANDMA TURKEY'S LAMENT

"Oh! Gobble! Gobble! Gobble! Oh!

The Turkey-world is full of woe!"

So Grandma Turkey sadly gobbles

As in her coop she lamely wobbles.

"This woe is caused by people's germs

Which are much smaller than wee worms

Yet cause great trouble on this earth

And drive away all joy and mirth.

"When I was young the turkeys then

They lost their turklettes now and then

When wintry winds came howling round

And chilly snow fell on the ground

From one disease, DECAPIDITIS,

But now we have appendicitis

While it is pleasant summer weather

And we should scarcely lose a feather.

"Our poor weak throats are the receiver

For children's ills, as scarlet fever

And many a diphtheratic germ

Which causes us in pain to squirm,

Extincting all of our fine race

So common birds must take our place."

ANSWERS, NOT QUESTIONS, CAUSE TROUBLE

MOTHER:

"Don't bother your father with questions, Ervane,

He's tired of hearing you ask to explain

Why fishes can't walk or ride on the land?

How lizards and fleas can live in the sand?

What causes the sun to set in the west

And always to sleep in one golden nest?

When will the time come for children to fly

And play in the clouds with the birds in the sky?

Such foolish, vain questions, they trouble your dad

And sometimes I fear they make him quite sad."

"No, Mother," replied the inquisitive lad,

"It's the answers, not questions, that trouble poor Dad."

ROOSEVELT COMPLIMENTS MAMA LION

One day last year King Teddy arose with old King Sun

And, seeing a huge lion, he seized his trusty gun

And made the King of Jungle-land quickly homeward run,

While Teddy followed after and thought it lots of fun.

King Lion reached his tavern home, trembling in great fear,

But when Queen Lion heard his tale, she simply scratched one ear,

Then shrugged her shoulders à la hump and to her husband said,

"In all the best newspapers how often have I read

That Teddy loves all parents who large families possess,

And I am sure with many cubs our happy den is blessed."

Then grave and proud Queen Lion she carried out each babe,

And placed it in the doorway of her Afro-jungle cave;

And there she proudly waited for King Teddy to appear,

For of his teeth and of his gun she hadn't any fear.

The coward King of Jungle-land, he hid himself inside,

And when he heard King Teddy's voice his bones shook in his hide;

But soon he knew his fears were vain when Teddy, laughing, said:

"As mother of fine sextets, you surely rank ahead

Of all the lions I have met in circus tent or den,

To meet you I'm DEE-LIGHTED, and I hope we'll meet again."

WEE WILLIE'S FIRST HAIR CUT

Last Friday, for the first time, wee Willie went with me

To the colored barber, who bowed most graciously,

And asked the little fellow how should he crop his curls,

Close to his head, in medium length, or bobbed like little girls'?

Wee Willie answered promptly. "My hair, please, barber, crop

Like my own dear Daddy's, wif a small round hole on top."

THE TIME OF HIS LIFE

There are many schools of learning and also schools of game,

But the school with largest members bears KING HIPPO'S name,

And big and little people, yes, even EVANS' FLEET,

Would think it quite unpleasant a Hippo school to meet.

But Bwana Tumbo Teddy, who knows no thought of fear,

Laughed in joyous pleasure as the SCHOOL drew near,

And smiling at the leader, he made her stiff with fright,

As from his parted mouthpiece his white teeth came in sight.

Then Bwana seized his rifle and, taking steady aim,

He fired at Queen Hippo and made her front legs lame,

Then shooting at her sisters, and brothers left and right,

He scattered all the mighty beasts and drove them out of sight.

All those he killed, this hunter brave, then quickly towed ashore,

Saying, "I'M DEE-LIGHTED, and I hope to meet some more

SCHOOLS OF HIPPOPOTAMI that feel inclined to strife,

As in this Hippo-battle I'd the time of my whole life."

THE WINKING STAR

There's a winking star in the sky above,

At least so I've been told;

A veritable little flirt of a star,

But he surely can't be bold,

As he's some million miles from here

In Pegasus, the steed,

And if we wish to see him wink

A telescope we need.

TOO MANY DOLLS

Miss Margaret Mary Elizabeth May,

Had one hundred dollies with which she could play.

There were bisque dolls and wax dolls and dolls with real hair,

Red dolls and black dolls and dolls that were fair,

Fat dolls and plump dolls and dolls in the style,

Hipless and jointless and dressed in a smile;

Sag dolls and wood dolls and celluloid boys,

China and paper and Jumping Jack Joys;

Irish and Scotch dolls and dolls from Paree,

And all of the strange lands from over the sea;

Jappies and Chinese and dark Esquimos,

Dutchies and Germans and cutest Dagoes;

Dollies from Egypt and dollies from Spain,

Hindoos and Hebrews and one little Dane.

From Poland and Russia they'd traveled afar

By railroad and steamer and also by car

To join other dollies from Johnnie Bull's home,

And lovely Italians from far away Rome.

From Greenland and Iceland, Norway and Greece,

The string of these dollies seemed never to cease.

But Margaret Mary Elizabeth May

Could never decide with which doll to play,

So she was not happy as poor little Sue,

Who in her doll family had only two

Wretched rag dollies without any hair,

But which she considered a most lovely pair.

And these ugly dollies they gave her delight,

As with them she played from morning till night.

LAST OF MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Mary had a little lamb;

She also had a little ham,

A pie, a cake, an ice-cream cone,

Which caused the maiden loud to groan.

And now poor Mary and her lamb

And pie and cake and cone and ham

Are resting in the cold, dark tomb—

For Mary met dyspeptic's doom.

WOES CAUSED BY WHOOPING BUGS

If you don't believe that whooping-cough causes lots of woe,

Just catch a few whooping germs and then I guess you'll know

That whoopee-whoops! and wheepee-wheeps! are not one bit of fun,

When you see others playing games where all must jump and run;

For if you jump or if you run, you start the whoop-oop-oop!

And even if you're tired you can't sleep for the croup,

Caused by the awful whooping bugs, which lurk within your throat

And make your voice sound hoarser than the singing of a goat.

For fear of spreading whooping bugs you certainly can't go

To Sunday-school or other school, or even to a show,

But you must stay at home ALONE from three to six long weeks,

And listen to your croaking voice, which whoops and sometimes squeaks.

So therefore take the good advice of a little girl who knows,

And stay away from WHOOPING-COUGH, which causes lots of woes.

GOOD B'S AND BAD T'S

The most precious treasures in all this good earth,

The givers of JOY of only true worth

Are good books and babies, the two little B's

That are gifts of the FAIRIES for mortals to please.

The most dreaded tortures in all this wide earth

That to all greatest SORROWS are prone to give birth

Are bad tears and temper, the two ugly T's

Invented by GOBLINS for mortals to tease.

A BOY'S COMPLAINT

Grandma calls me Johnnie, father calls me John,

My sweetheart calls me Buddy, and the boys call me Don,

But Mother, oh, dear Mother, whenever I come near,

She calls me darling Baby and sometimes "BABY DEAR."

I like the name of Johnnie, I'm proud of my name John,

I don't mind hearing Buddy and the shorter name of Don,

But, though I love dear Mother far more than all the rest,

Her name of DARLING BABY I thoroughly detest.

You see when I am playing with boys in the street,

And pitching ball or doing some extraordinary feat,

It makes me feel so little to hear my mother call,

"Watch out, my darling BABY, be careful lest you fall!"

I'm not a darling baby, nor little baby dear,

I'm quite a great big boy and have no baby fear,

But I can't stand the guying the boys give to me,

When Mother starts to calling that hateful name—"BABEE."

KING TEDDY, THE FEARLESS

King Teddy has much courage to fight both beasts and men

With pistols and with broadswords and with the mighty pen.

And now in Afric jungles he's busy fighting fleas,

Mosquitoes, and big tigers and monstrous bumble bees;

Huge elephants, gorillas and awful Guinea-worms,

Sloughing phagedæna, and sleeping sickness germs,

Tinea imbricata, piedra, and goundou,

Malaria and the ainhum, pinta and the sprue,

Chyluria, mycetonia, leprosy and yaws,

Afric dysentery and maybe lions' claws,

Bubonic plague and dengue and dreadful tropic-boils,

Fevers black and yellow and sometimes serpents' coils,

Tinea Madagascar, Dhobie itch, screw worms,

Beri-beri and craw-craw and all the Afric germs;

With dread sun-traumatism, and abscess of the liver,

Yet none of these great terrors can make King Teddy shiver.

THE GROUCH-BUG

Of all the dreaded bugs and germs

That in this earth abound,

No bugs in greater number

Have ever yet been found,

Nor looked upon with terror more

By big folks and by small

Than GROUCH-BUGS, which are awful pests.

That come to one and all.

They make us, oh, so cranky

That we would like to yell,

And hunt up all the meanest things

About our friends to tell.

When other folks are smiling

The GROUCH-BUG'S victim cries,

While other folks are dancing

The GROUCH-SICK heave big sighs.

A great and noted doctor says

The GROUCH-BUG is but found

Within the torrid climate

Where heat waves will abound,

And that the bug will never live

In woman, boy or child,

But always seeks a man's stout frame

And makes him cross and wild.

But though I'm young, I truly think

That this is not quite true,

For well I know some little girls,

And boys and ladies, too,

Who have the awful GROUCHES

And get quite fiercely mad

So that they act like demons

Who never can be glad.

My daddy says the only cure

Which he would always use

For folks who get the GROUCHES

And other folks abuse,

Would be to give a ducking

With water freezing cold

So that they'd be so chilly

They couldn't even scold.

But for the kiddies of my age

Who let this bad bug in,

He recommends the touching

Of peach limb to bare skin.

KIND HEARTS

There are no bigger hearts for their bodies

And no kinder hearts on this earth

Than the big juicy red hearts of melons,

To mortals fair jewels of worth.

The "King Water Melon," the big heart,

Of all earthly melons the best,

He clings to the earth, his good mother,

And never once leaves her warm breast.

And so when he's grown he's a big heart,

Which helps both the great and the small,

When fevers are burning our parched throats

Or if we are thirsty at all.

These kind hearts are always so cooling

And taste, oh, so good and so sweet,

I'm sure that they once grew in Eden

For our Father Adam to eat.

HENS

What curious birds are common hens!

They make good broth and even pens.

They have no teeth, no hair, no nose,

But sport a comb red as a rose.

They have no arms or funny bones

That causes folks to let forth groans,

Their victuals they all swallow whole

And use a craw for a chopping bowl.

They have no hands, they have no wrists,

And without hands they can't make fists,

But for one thing they should rejoice

And cluck aloud with cheerful voice;

Not having hands, they have no nails,

Which are the cause of many wails,

For once a week we girls and boys

Must put aside our games and toys

And all our nice exciting tales,

While mother trims our finger nails.

NISSEN, THE SANTA CLAUS OF NORWAY

How glad I am that I was born in this land very dear,

Where children have a Santa Claus of whom they have no fear;

A Santa who is always kind, remembering one and all

When every year at Christmas time, he pays us all a call.

In far away chill Norway, there NISSEN is the name

Of the Christmas visitor who bears good Santa's fame;

But he's a naughty brownie so short and very small,

Not a bit like Santa who pays us all a call.

But, like our good gift giver, his beard is long and white,

And he wears a coat of furs and many colors bright.

But instead of bringing goodies to good girls and to boys,

Nice new clothes and books and games and lots of wondrous toys,

He expects that all big folks and also little ones

Should leave his favorite dishes, such as puddings, cakes and buns,

Outside of every doorway so that he may eat at will

Of these luscious dainties until he has had his fill.

Then after eating all the cakes his "tummy-tum" can hold,

He milks the cows and splits the wood (at least, so I've been told),

But never thinks to bring nice gifts to little girls and boys

Whose parents have to trim their trees and buy them all their toys.

Besides, this naughty NISSEN is cross at times and bad,

And does all sorts of horrid tricks which I think very sad

At Christmas when we all should be so kind to one another,

And treat each person whom we meet as if he were our brother.

But NISSEN steals away the cows and even horses fleet,

From all the people who forget to bake him puddings sweet;

And if above a whisper one should dare to speak or sing

About this cranky fellow, then this evil he will bring

Upon the one who dared to throw his name upon the breeze,

Now in our land we sing loud praise of Santa all the time,

And tell about his goodness great, in prose and jingling rhyme;

And yet it seems the more we sing about the jolly elf,

But children in far Norway are better girls and boys

Than we who live in this fair land and think so much of toys

That we forget about the pets while feeding our own selves

While Norway children in the fall they work to gather corn

And save it for the birds they feed on every Christmas morn;

So we should follow in their steps and feed the wee birds crumbs

A CHRISTMAS WISH FOR ALL MY FRIENDS

While Christmas bells are chiming, oh, may there come to you

A dear sweet little fairy, who's always good and true;

The little happy fairy, who drives away dull care,

And makes all things upon the earth seem ever bright and fair.

She'll whisper to good Santa to bring what you most wish;

So if you have been longing for a fine pudding dish,

She will not, as in by-gone years, forget and bring to you

Something that you do not want, though beautiful and new.

SANTA'S REINDEER IN THE SKY

Long, long ago before this earth had any girls and boys

To hang their stockings on the shelf expecting Christmas toys,

Good Santa was a big white cloud that floated in the sky;

If you had lived in those old days, you'd seen him floating by.

But when the children came to rule upon good Mother Earth,

She took kind Santa from the sky and made him God of Mirth;

To bring at every Christmas time good gifts to girls and boys

And make them all so happy with a lot of lovely toys.

Far, far among the icebergs, in the cold and freezing zone,

She built for him a palace, where he lives almost alone,

With only good old Mrs. Claus to keep him company,

And sometimes Cousin Nicholas for two days or for three.

Wise Mother Earth she knew this clime would suit good Santa well,

For here no foolish, idle folks would ever come to dwell;

Nor pay the good Saint visits which would waste his precious time,

While he could work much faster here than in a warmer clime.

But never did he suffer from the icebergs at the Pole,

As fairies kept his fireplace all full of red-hot coal;

Or heaped bright burning logs on it as full as it could hold,

So Santa never felt a tweak of Jack Frost's biting cold.

Likewise the fairies brought to him and his most faithful spouse,

Just everything that they could need to keep a cozy house.

And even cooked their victuals and brought them every day

Exactly at the proper time, upon a huge hot tray.

And after they had eaten all the dainties on the tray,

The good kind fairies quickly came and took the tray away;

So Mrs. Claus had no excuse for being cross or sad,

Since no experience she had had with Bridgets getting mad.

When Santa finished all his toys, he put them in a sack,

Where he intended carrying them just like a pedler's pack,

But Mother Earth surprised the Saint and to his palace led

Eight lovely prancing reindeer and a large commodious sled.

These reindeer were the cousins of swift Pegasus, the steed

Who helped the hero Perseus when he was in great need;

And, like the flying hero horse, they lived up in the sky,

Till Mother Earth had need of them to help old Santa fly.

And so on every Christmas eve for full ten hundred years,

Good Santa and his reindeer fleet have banished children's tears

By bringing them most all the gifts their little hearts could wish,

And filling stockings, shoes and plates, and even puddin dish.

But when last Christmas came around, good Mother Earth, she said,

"Dear Santa, I have something fine for you to use instead

Of your good, faithful reindeer and your big old-fashioned sled,

For here's a lovely aeroplane, all painted shining red."

The wise old lady then declared that he could safely fly

With this machine most anywhere away up in the sky,

And travel far, far faster than the reindeer who were fleet

But stumbled sometimes on the roofs made slippery with sleet.

The aeroplane could carry well a larger load of toys,

So he could visit more good girls and also little boys,

Who live in far off heathen lands where everyone's a sinner,

But that's no reason each should do without a Christmas dinner.

With this machine he'd save some time to look out for each pet

Of all the little girls and boys, as they so oft forget

To treat their pets most kindly upon the Christmas morn

In memory of the Saviour who on this day was born.

And likewise all the horses, the cows and pigs and sheep,

For men so seldom think of them when Christmas time they keep;

And even wild, fierce animals, and fishes in the sea,

Should all be made quite happy at Christmas time to be.

"I do not like this plan at all of giving up my sled

And my good faithful reindeer," so good old Santa said.

But Mother Earth she laughed at him and said she would repay

The reindeer, whom she would send home straight to the Milky Way.

But Santa was old-fashioned and had great fears to fly

Without his sled and reindeer, he'd used in years gone by,

And begged that on his maiden trip these true old friends to take

To help him should the aeroplane prove but a wicked fake.

The laughing Earth then granted him this very small request,

And early on glad Christmas eve (the eve of all most blest)

He started forth upon his trip, did good old Santa dear,

Guiding his Wright aeroplane with feelings of great fear.

But Mother Earth showed she was wise and knew just what was best

To help the good old tired saint while on his children quest;

And fast the good Wright aeroplane it flew both low and high,

So Santa took the Earth's advice, and though he heaved a sigh,

He dropped the poor old worn-out sled as he was passing by,

And people said, who saw it fall, "A meteor from the sky!"

Then, kissing each good reindeer, he bade them all farewell,

And left them in the Milky Way, forever there to dwell.

And you, my little playmates, who have heard the tiny hoofs

Of the wondrous flying steeds pattering on the roofs,

If you would like to catch a glimpse of Santa's good reindeer,

Then wait until it's dark some night, and when the sky is clear,

You'll see them very plainly in the broad light Milky Way,

And there, for all the time to come, these steeds will romp and play.

ALL DENTISTS GO TO HEAVEN

I don't like dentists, because they hurt me

With horrid bad pinchers as sharp as can be.

They pick at my teeth and scratch in my head

Until I begin to wish I were dead.

But I read in the paper (so I suppose it's so)

That all of the dentists to Heaven will go,

Because they are needed away up there

To make gold crowns for the angels fair.

MABEL AT THE BUTCHER SHOP

When Mabel went with Mother

To buy some chops for tea,

She gazed in awestruck horror

At sawdust she could see,

Sprinkled over all the floor,

To north, south, east and west,

And as wee Mabel saw it

Her heart was sore oppressed.

She hated all the butchers

And yearned to be at home,

Where she could guard her dolly

And teach her not to roam

Afar to shops of butchers,

As now wee Mabel knew

That butchers hurt poor dollies

And stab them through and through,

So all their nice warm stuffings

Would flow from every pore

And cover well with sawdust

The butcher's dirty floor.

THANKSGIVING IN 20,000 A. D.

"Oh, how the ways have changed with men

Since the good days of nineteen ten,

When I was living on the earth

And joining in Thanksgiving mirth!"

A nineteen hundred spirit cried

As many people he espied

While gazing on old Mother Earth

Years twenty thousand since her birth.

Long, long ago, as poets say,

For good Thanksgiving holiday

A feast was spread of nice mince pies.

Of turkeys of tremendous size,

Cranberry sauce, and giblet stew,

Potatoes, corn and ice cream, too,

With salads, raisins, nuts and cake,

And all the pastry "Ma" could bake.

These days, alas! they don't believe

That any stomach should receive

A mixture of such tasty things,

And as folks float upon their wings

They take some predigested pills,

Which, so they say, keep off all ills.

And now on good Thanksgiving Day

There is no feasting, as folks say—

"We wish to live for many years,

And of all eating we have fears.

The doctors say corn's full of worms

Known as pellagra's awful germs,

That turkeys cause appendicitis,

Scarlet fever, stomachtitis;

That products of the frying pan

Cause great distress to every man;

That puddings bring us naught but woe,

And therefore we should let them go.

We ne'er will sit around a table

And eat as long as we are able,

Then put it in the daily paper

That Mrs. X. cut such a caper

As to invite fair Madame P.

To dine with her or drink some tea.

'Tis vulgar, common, so we think,

To go about and eat and drink,

While people watch us taking food

Which we consider very rude;

So to dark closets we retire

When NATURE calls for more food-fire,

And there on this Thanksgiving Day

We all will go, though not to pray,

But predigested powders take

Instead of turkey, pie and cake."

ON THANKSGIVING

Before you eat good turkey, rich mince and pumpkin pies

On that great feast of feast days when "tum-tums" grow in size,

The good old day THANKSGIVING, the best day in the year,

When all should be so thankful around the board of cheer.

Then don't forget the poor ones, the hungry, cold and sad,

Go fill their empty tables and make the whole world glad

THE PETS' CHRISTMAS CAROL

"Tweet—tweet—tweet!" sang the canary,

Which meant that he was very merry,

Because his little mistress, Nell,

On Christmas eve had fed him well.

"Bow—wow—wow!" sang the gay young pup,

"My master's gone away to sup,

But though he won't be here for tea,

Just see the meal he left for me!"

"Mew—mew—mew!" sang the mama cat,

"Such milk as this will make me fat,

And, oh, I feel so very gay

This cold and frosty Christmas day."

Each mama cow sang "Moo—moo—moo!"

And gentle dove sang—"Coo—coo—coo."

And every horse and sheep and pig,

And duck and chicken, small and big,

A carol sang on Christmas eve,

Because a feast each did receive.

ONLY NAUGHTY CHILDREN SEE "SPOOKS" ON HALLOWE'EN

Witches and goblins, spooks and elves,

With sprites and gnomes from elf-land delves,

To-night are flying here and there,

Yes, up and down and everywhere.

For this one night in all the year

They rule the earth and bring great fear

To all the naughty little boys

Who tease good girls and break their toys.

These spooks they also make girls sad

When they are selfish, cross and bad;

So when it's dark, bad boys and maids.

They see these awful fearsome shades,

And that is why with covered heads,

They trembling lie in their warm beds.

But even there they goblins see,

Spooks and gnomes, and all that be

Abroad upon weird Hallowe'en

When all the wizards may be seen

By naughty kids and grown-up folks

Who like to play most wicked jokes.

But good young girls and gentle boys,

The kids who are their mothers' joys,

They like the dark just as the light,

For spooks ne'er come within their sight,

And in their dreams the lovely elves

Show them bright scenes from fairy delves.

So, if to-night you are afraid

Of any spook or any shade,

Well know you are a naughty child,

So cross and wilful, rude and wild.

MY EASTER WISH

May flowers of JOY

At EASTER bloom

Within your heart,

Where weeds of gloom

Will fail to find

A place to grow

While JOY remains

As gloom-weeds' foe.

A WHINGWANG SONNET OF AN EASTER BONNET

Once there was a little girl,

But she didn't have a curl,

Though she had an Easter bonnet

With ostrich plumes and flowers on it,

Since like her mother she aspired

À la mode to be attired.

But when she rose on Easter morn

With deepest grief her heart was torn,

For, oh, alas! the rain was falling

In torrents great; to her appalling,

As well she knew 'twould spoil her bonnet

With ostrich plumes and flowers on it.

Her hair in papers she had worn

The whole night through and tortures borne

In hopes to have a curl or two

To wear beneath her bonnet new.

But now, alas, the horrid rain

Would make her hair all straight again.

And so with fear of straightened hair,

Which might cause folks to laugh and stare,

And likewise to protect her bonnet

With ostrich plumes and flowers on it,