A Nonsense Anthology Part 17

The Pobble swam fast and well, And when boats or s.h.i.+ps came near him, He tinkledy-binkledy-winkled a bell So that all the world could hear him.

And all the Sailors and Admirals cried, When they saw him nearing the farther side, "He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!"

But before he touched the sh.o.r.e-- The sh.o.r.e of the Bristol Channel, A sea-green Porpoise carried away His wrapper of scarlet flannel.

And when he came to observe his feet, Formerly garnished with toes so neat, His face at once became forlorn On perceiving that all his toes were gone!

And n.o.body ever knew, From that dark day to the present, Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes, In a manner so far from pleasant.

Whether the shrimps or crawfish gray, Or crafty mermaids stole them away, n.o.body knew; and n.o.body knows How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!

The Pobble who has no toes Was placed in a friendly Bark, And they rowed him back and carried him up To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.

And she made him a feast at his earnest wish, Of eggs and b.u.t.tercups fried with fish; And she said, "It's a fact the whole world knows, That Pobbles are happier without their toes."

_Edward Lear_.

THE JUMBLIES

I

They went to sea in a sieve, they did; In a sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a sieve they went to sea.

And when the sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, "You'll all be drowned!"

They called aloud, "Our sieve ain't big; But we don't care a b.u.t.ton, we don't care a fig: In a sieve we'll go to sea!"

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

II

They sailed away in a sieve, they did, In a sieve they sailed so fast, With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a ribbon by way of a sail, To a small tobacco-pipe mast.

And every one said who saw them go, "Oh! won't they soon be upset, you know?

For the sky is dark and the voyage is long, And, happen what may, it's extremely wrong In a sieve to sail so fast."

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

III

The water it soon came in, it did; The water it soon came in: So, to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat; And they fastened it down with a pin.

And they pa.s.sed the night in a crockery-jar; And each of them said, "How wise we are!

Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong, While round in our sieve we spin."

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

IV

And all night long they sailed away; And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong, In the shade of the mountains brown.

"O Timballoo! How happy we are When we live in a sieve and a crockery-jar!

And all night long, in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail In the shade of the mountains brown."

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

V They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,-- To a land all covered with trees; And they bought an owl and a useful cart, And a pound of rice, and a cranberry-tart, And a hive of silvery bees; And they bought a pig, and some green jackdaws, And a lovely monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of ring-bo-ree, And no end of Stilton cheese.

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

VI

And in twenty years they all came back,-- In twenty years or more; And every one said, "How tall they've grown!

For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone, And the hills of the Chankly Bore."

And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, "If we only live, We, too, will go to sea in a sieve, To the hills of the Chankly Bore."

Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue; And they went to sea in a sieve.

_Edward Lear_.

INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF MY UNCLE ARLY

I

Oh! my aged Uncle Arly, Sitting on a heap of barley Through the silent hours of night, Close beside a leafy thicket; On his nose there was a cricket, In his hat a Railway-Ticket, (But his shoes were far too tight.)

II

Long ago, in youth, he squander'd All his goods away, and wander'd To the Timskoop-hills afar.

There on golden sunsets glazing Every evening found him gazing, Singing, "Orb! you're quite amazing!

How I wonder what you are!"

III

Like the ancient Medes and Persians, Always by his own exertions He subsisted on those hills; Whiles, by teaching children spelling, Or at times by merely yelling, Or at intervals by selling "Propter's Nicodemus Pills."

IV

Later, in his morning rambles, He perceived the moving brambles Something square and white disclose:-- 'Twas a First-cla.s.s Railway-Ticket; But on stooping down to pick it Off the ground, a pea-green cricket Settled on my uncle's nose.

V

Never, nevermore, oh! never Did that cricket leave him ever,-- Dawn or evening, day or night; Clinging as a constant treasure, Chirping with a cheerious measure, Wholly to my uncle's pleasure, (Though his shoes were far too tight.)

VI

So for three and forty winters, Till his shoes were worn to splinters All those hills he wander'd o'er,-- Sometimes silent, sometimes yelling; Till he came to Borley-Melling, Near his old ancestral dwelling, (But his shoes were far too tight.)

VII

On a little heap of barley Died my aged Uncle Arly, And they buried him one night Close beside the leafy thicket; There, his hat and Railway-Ticket; There, his ever faithful cricket; (But his shoes were far too tight.)

_Edward Lear_.

LINES TO A YOUNG LADY