A Nonsense Anthology Part 18

How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!

Who has written such volumes of stuff!

Some think him ill-tempered and queer, But a few think him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious, His nose is remarkably big; His visage is more or less hideous, His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers, Leastways if you reckon two thumbs; Long ago he was one of the singers, But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlour, With hundreds of books on the wall; He drinks a great deal of Marsala, But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, laymen and clerical, Old Foss is the name of his cat: His body is perfectly spherical, He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in a waterproof white, The children run after him so!

Calling out, "He's come out in his night- Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!"

He weeps by the side of the ocean, He weeps on the top of the hill; He purchases pancakes and lotion, And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads but he cannot speak Spanish, He cannot abide ginger-beer: Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish, How pleasant to know Mr. Lear.

_Edward Lear_.

WAYS AND MEANS

I'll tell thee everything I can; There's little to relate.

I saw an aged aged man, A-sitting on a gate.

"Who are you, aged man?" I said, "And how is it you live?"

His answer trickled through my head Like water through a sieve.

He said, "I look for b.u.t.terflies That sleep among the wheat: I make them into mutton-pies, And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men," he said, "Who sail on stormy seas; And that's the way I get my bread-- A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan To dye one's whiskers green, And always use so large a fan That they could not be seen.

So, having no reply to give To what the old man said, I cried, "Come, tell me how you live!"

And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale; He said, "I go my ways And when I find a mountain-rill I set it in a blaze; And thence they make a stuff they call Rowland's Maca.s.sar Oil-- Yet twopence-halfpenny is all They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way To feed oneself on batter, And so go on from day to day Getting a little fatter.

I shook him well from side to side, Until his face was blue; "Come, tell me how you live," I cried, "And what it is you do!"

He said, "I hunt for haddock's eyes Among the heather bright, And work them into waistcoat-b.u.t.tons In the silent night.

And these I do not sell for gold Or coin of silvery s.h.i.+ne, But for a copper halfpenny And that will purchase nine."

"I sometimes dig for b.u.t.tered rolls, Or set limed twigs for crabs; I sometimes search the gra.s.sy knolls For wheels of Hansom cabs.

And that's the way" (he gave a wink) "By which I get my wealth-- And very gladly will I drink Your Honor's n.o.ble health."

I heard him then, for I had just Completed my design To keep the Menai Bridge from rust By boiling it in wine.

I thanked him much for telling me The way he got his wealth, But chiefly for his wish that he Might drink my n.o.ble health.

And now if e'er by chance I put My fingers into glue, Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot Into a left-hand shoe, Or if I drop upon my toe A very heavy weight, I weep, for it reminds me so Of that old man I used to know-- Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow, Whose hair was whiter than the snow, Whose face was very like a crow, With eyes, like cinders, all aglow, Who seemed distracted with his woe, Who rocked his body to and fro, And muttered mumblingly, and low, As if his mouth were full of dough, Who snorted like a buffalo-- That summer evening, long ago, A-sitting on a gate.

_Lewis Carroll_

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

The sun was s.h.i.+ning on the sea, s.h.i.+ning with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright-- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.

The moon was s.h.i.+ning sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done-- "It's very rude of him," she said, "To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead-- There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quant.i.ties of sand: "If this were only cleared away,"

They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose," the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?"

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters come and walk with us!"

The Walrus did beseech.

"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him, But not a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head-- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat-- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more-- All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the sh.o.r.e.

The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and s.h.i.+ps--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!"

"No hurry!" said the Carpenter, They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed-- Now if you 're ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue.

"After such kindness that would be A dismal thing to do!"

"The night is fine," the Walrus said, "Do you admire the view?"

"It was so kind of you to come!

And you are very nice!"