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His caravan has windows two,

And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;

He has a wife, with a baby brown,

And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,
Plates, with alphabets round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is like a bathing-machine;
The world is round, and he can ride,
Rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the peddler-man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;

All the people would read my book,

Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

William Brighty Rands [1823-1882]

MR. COGGS

A WATCH Will tell the time of day,
Or tell it nearly, any way,

Excepting when it's overwound,

Or when you drop it on the ground.

If any of our watches stop,
We haste to Mr. Coggs's shop;

For though to scold us he pretends,

He's quite among our special friends.

He fits a dice-box in his eye,

And takes a long and thoughtful spy,

And prods the wheels, and says, "Dear, dear!
More carelessness, I greatly fear.”

And then he lays the dice-box down

And frowns a most prodigious frown;
But if we ask him what's the time,
He'll make his gold repeater chime.

Edward Verrall Lucas [1868

"There Was a Jolly Miller"

THE BUILDING OF THE NEST

THEY'LL come again to the apple tree-
Robin and all the rest-

When the orchard branches are fair to see,
In the snow of the blossoms dressed;
And the prettiest thing in the world will be
The building of the nest.

Weaving it well, so round and trim,

Hollowing it with care,

Nothing too far away for him,

Nothing for her too fair,

Hanging it safe on the topmost limb,
Their castle in the air.

Ah! mother bird, you'll have weary days
When the eggs are under your breast,
And shadow may darken the dancing rays
When the wee ones leave the nest;
But they'll find their wings in a glad amaze,
And God will see to the rest.

So come to the trees with all your train
When the apple blossoms blow;

Through the April shimmer of sun and rain,

Go flying to and fro;

And sing to our hearts as we watch again

Your fairy building grow.

163

Margaret Sangster (1838-1912]

"THERE WAS A JOLLY MILLER”

From "Love in a Village"

THERE was a jolly miller once lived on the river Dee;
He danced and sang from morn till night, no lark so blithe

as he;

And this the burden of his song forever used to be:

"I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for me,

"I live by my mill, God bless her! she's kindred, child, and wife;

I would not change my station for any other in life;
No lawyer, surgeon, or doctor e'er had a groat from me;
I care for nobody, no not I, if nobody cares for me."

When spring begins his merry career, oh, how his heart grows gay;

No summer's drought alarms his fear, nor winter's coid

decay;

No foresight mars the miller's joy, who's wont to sing and

say,

"Let others toil from year to year, I live from day to day."

Thus, like the miller, bold and free, let us rejoice and sing; The days of youth are made for glee, and time is on the wing; This song shall pass from me to thee, along the jovial ring; Let heart and voice and all agree to say, "Long live the king." Isaac Bickerstaff [? -1812?]

ONE AND ONE

Two little girls are better than one,
Two little boys can double the fun,
Two little birds can build a fine nest,
Two little arms can love mother best.
Two little ponies must go to a span;
Two little pockets has my little man;
Two little eyes to open and close,
Two little ears and one little nose,
Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet,
Two little shoes on two little feet,
Two little lips and one little chin,
Two little cheeks with a rose shut in;
Two little shoulders, chubby and strong,
Two little legs running all day long.
Two little prayers does my darling say,
Twice does he kneel by my side each day,
Two little folded hands, soft and brown,
Two little eyelids cast meekly down,

A Nursery Song

And two little angels guard him in bed,
"One at the foot, and one at the head." ·

165

Mary Mapes Dodge [1838-1905]

A NURSERY SONG

Он, Peterkin Рout and Gregory Grout

Are two little goblins black.

Full oft from my house I've driven them out,
But somehow they still come back.

They clamber up to the baby's mouth,
And pull the corners down;

They perch aloft on the baby's brow,

And twist it into a frown.

Chorus:

And one says "Must!" and t'other says "Can't!"
And one says "Shall!" and t'other says "Shan't!”
Oh, Peterkin Pout and Gregory Grout,

I pray you now from my house keep out!

But Samuel Smile and Lemuel Laugh
Are two little fairies bright;

They're always ready for fun and chaff,
And sunshine is their delight.

And when they creep into Baby's eyes,

Why, there the sunbeams are;

And when they peep through her rosy lips,

Her laughter rings near and far.

Chorus:

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And one says "Please!" and t'other says "Do!"
And both together say "I love you!"
So, Lemuel Laugh and Samuel Smile,
Come in, my dears, and tarry awhile!

Laura E. Richards [1850

A MORTIFYING MISTAKE

I STUDIED my tables over and over, and backward and forward, too;

But I couldn't remember six times nine, and I didn't know what to do,

Till sister told me to play with my doll, and not to bother my head.

"If you call her 'Fifty-four' for a while, you'll learn it by heart," she said.

So I took my favorite, Mary Ann (though I thought 'twas a dreadful shame

To give such a perfectly lovely child such a perfectly horrid

name),

And I called her my dear little "Fifty-four" a hundred times, till I knew

The answer of six times nine as well as the answer of two times two.

Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, who always acts so

proud,

Said, "Six times nine is fifty-two," and I nearly laughed

aloud!

But I wished I hadn't when teacher said, "Now, Dorothy, tell if you can."

For I thought of my doll and-sakes alive!-I answered, "Mary Ann!"

Anna Maria Pratt [18

THE RAGGEDY MAN

O THE Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa;
An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!
He comes to our house every day,

An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay;
An' he opens the shed-an' we all ist laugh
When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;

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