Mother Truth's Melodies Part 9

Fee-fi-fo-fog, See the wriggling pollywog,*-- With funny tail; but without fail This pollywog Will grow a frog, And lose his wiggle-tail.

[Footnote: Pollywog--Common name for poll wig, or tadpole.]

Fee-fi-fo-faint, Colors, seven, the Rainbow paint; Violet bright is first in sight-- Then indigo, Blue, green, yellow, Orange and Red,--the seven, WHITE.

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Fay-fee-fi-fo, Now you ask, "What makes Rainbow?"

It is the sun, my darling one, s.h.i.+nes through the rain, O'er hill and plain, But see, the beauty's flown.

Fay-fi-fo-fear, Don't you understand it, dear?

Raindrops fall, Sun s.h.i.+nes through all, Reflects beyond, This beauteous wand Which we the Rainbow call.

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_THE OXEN_.

The oxen are such clever beasts, They'll drag the plough all day; They're very strong and tug along Great loads of wood or hay.

They feed on gra.s.s, when green or dry; Their flesh is beef, for food; Their lungs are "lights," their stomach, "tripe,"

Their skin for leather's good.

Their hair men use in mortar, too, Lime, water, sand and hair, They nicely mix and smoothly fix, For plastering, so fair.

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For making soap their bones are used; Their horns for combs we group; Their feet are boiled for "neat's-foot-oil,"

Their tails for ox-tail soup.

Their heart-case forms a money-bag; Their tallow, candles, white; Their intestine, gold-beater's skin, With which gold-leaf we smite.

Thus every part is useful made; The same is true of cows,-- Except their ilk gives luscious milk Instead of dragging ploughs.

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Oxen and cows are "cattle" called; They go in "herds," when wild; But when they're tame, by other name,-- A "drove," _en ma.s.se_, they're styled.

Their little ones are "calves,"--and cows'

Rich milk produces cream, Which b.u.t.ter makes, and nice cheese-cakes, With curd, whey, and caseine.

And now 'tis funny, but 'tis true, Some children young and mazy, Have thought their eyes were used some-wise, To make the ox-eyed daisy!

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This cannot be, yet creatures' bones Placed round trees, plants and bowers, Will serve to feed just what they need, To grow fine fruits and flowers.

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_THE BROKEN PITCHER_.

"Sweet, my love, I'm sorry That you did not tell, When you broke the pitcher Coming from the well."

"Oh, I thought you'd whip me, Just as Betty did; Then when she would ask me, I would tell a fib."

"Sweet, my child, I never Punish any one For an accidental Thing that may be done.

"Tell me always, darling, Everything you do; This will help to make you Thoughtful, brave and true."

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_THE ELEPHANTS_.

THE ivory for our combs, From elephants' tusks is made; The handles, too for many a knife, And for paper-knives the blade.

The elephant knows a friend,-- And well remembers, too, A kindly act, but ne'er forgets The teasing of a foe.

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_THE WIND_.

"What is the wind, Mamma?"

"Tis air in motion, child;"

"Why can I never see the wind That blows so fierce and wild?"

"Because the Gases, dear, Of which the air is made, Are quite transparent, that is, we See through, but see no shade."

"And what are Gases, Ma?"

"Fluids, which, if we squeeze In s.p.a.ce too small, will burst with force;"-- "And what are _fluids_, please?"

"Fluids are what will flow, And gases are so light That when we give them room enough, They rush with eager flight."

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"What gases, dear Mamma, Make up the air or wind?"

"'Tis Oxygen and Nitrogen That chiefly there we find; And when the air is full Of Oxygen we're gay, But when there is not quite enough, We're dull, or faint away."