The Jingle Book

The Rhyme of Triangular Tommy

 
Triangular Tommy, one morning in May,
Went out for a walk on the public highway.
Just here I will say,
’Twas a bright sunny day,
And the sky it was blue, and the grass it was green,
The same sky and grass that you’ve all of you seen;
And the birds in the trees sang their usual song,
And Triangular Tommy went trudging along.
 
 
But I can tell you
He cared naught for the view.
He did just what small boys of his age always do:
He shouted out “Scat!”
At a wandering cat,
And he picked a big daisy to stick in his hat;
The clovers he topped,
And the toadstools he cropped,
And sometimes he scuffled and sometimes he hopped.
 

 
He took an old stick and poked at a worm,
And merrily chuckled to see the thing squirm;
When he chanced to look up, and in gorgeous array
Triangular Tilly was coming his way.
Triangular Tom straightened up in a jiff,
And put on his best manner—exceedingly stiff;
And as far as his angular shape would allow
Triangular Tom made a beautiful bow.
 

 
Triangular Tilly went smilingly by,
With a glance that was friendly, but just a bit shy.
And Tom so admired her that after she passed,
A backward look over his shoulder he cast.
And he said, “Though I think many girls are but silly,
I really admire that Triangular Tilly.”
 

 
But soon all such thoughts were put out of his head,
For who should come by but Triangular Ted,
The very boy Tom had been wishing to see!
“Hello!” said Triangular Tommy, said he.
“Hello!” said Triangular Ted, and away
Those two children scooted to frolic and play.
And they had, on the green,
Where ’twas all dry and clean,
The best game of leap-frog that ever was seen.
Triangular Tom beat down this way, you know,
And Triangular Ted stood beside him, just so,
When one, two, three—go!
With the greatest gusto,
Ted flew over Tom in a manner not slow.
 

 
They played hide-and-seek, they played marbles and tag,
They played they were soldiers, and each waved a flag;
Till at last they confessed,
They wanted to rest;
So they sat down and chatted with laughter and jest;
 

 
When Schoolmaster Jones they suddenly spied,
Come clumping along with his pedagogue stride,
As usual, with manner quite preoccupied;
With his hat on one side,
And his shoe-lace untied—
A surly old fellow, it can’t be denied;
And each wicked boy
Thought that he would enjoy
An occasion the thoughtful old man to annoy,
And all of his wise calculations destroy.
So they thought they’d employ
A means known to each boy.
And across the wide pavement they fastened a twine
Exceedingly strong but exceedingly fine;
And Triangular Tommy laughed out in his glee,
To think how upset the old master would be!
 

 
Although very wicked, their mischievous scheme
Was a perfect success; and with a loud scream,
A horrible clash,
A thump and a smash,
Old Schoolmaster Jones came down with a crash.
His hat rolled away, and his spectacles broke,
And those dreadful boys thought it a howling good joke.
And they just doubled up in immoderate glee,
Saying, “Look at the Schoolmaster!
Tee-hee! tee-hee!”
 

 
Tom gave a guffaw,
And Ted roared a “haw-haw”;
But soon their diversion was turned into awe,
For old Schoolmaster Jones was angry, they saw.
 

 
Triangular Ted
Turned swiftly and fled,
And far down the street like a reindeer he sped,
Leaving Tommy to face the old gentleman’s rage,
Who quickly jumped up,—he was brisk for his age,—
And with just indignation portrayed on his face,
To Triangular Tommy he quickly gave chase.
 

 
And hearing his squeals
And his frantic appeals,
Triangular Tommy fast took to his heels.
Now Tommy was agile and Tommy was spry;
He whizzed through the air—he just seemed to fly;
He rushed madly on, until, dreadful to say!
He came where the railroad was just in his way—
And alas! and alack!
He tripped on the track
And then with a terrible, sudden ker-thwack!
Triangular Tommy sprawled flat on his back—
And the train came along with a crash, and a crack,
A din, and a clatter, a clang, and a clack,
A toot, and a boom, and a roar, and a hiss,
And chopped him up all into pieces like this—
If you cut out papers just like them, why, then,
If you try, you can put him together again.
 

A Modern Invention

 
Old Santa Claus is up-to-date,
And hereafter, rumors say,
He’ll come with his pack of glittering toys,
And visit the homes of girls and boys,
In a new reindeerless sleigh.
 

An April Joke

 
Oh, it was a merry, gladsome day,
When the April Fool met the Queen of May;
She had roguish eyes and golden hair,
And they were a mischief-making pair.
They planned the funniest kind of a joke
On the poor, long-suffering mortal folk;
And a few mysterious words he said,
His fool’s cap close to her flower-crowned head.
Then he laughed till he made his cap-bells ring,
At the thought of the topsy-turvy Spring.
“’Tis a fair exchange,” he said, with a wink—
“It is!” she said, and what do you think?
The flowers that should bloom in the month of May
Every one of them came on an April day!
And they looked for April showers in vain,
But all through May it did nothing but rain!
 

An Alice Alphabet

 
A is for Alice a-dressing the Queen.
 

 
B is for Borogoves, mimsy and lean.
 

 
C is the Cheshire Cat, wearing a grin.
 

 
D is the Duchess who had a sharp chin.
 

 
E is the Eaglet who barred out long words.
 

 
F, the Flamingo, the queerest of birds.
 

 
G is the Gryphon, loquacious and gay.
 

 
H, Humpty Dumpty in gorgeous array.
 

 
I is for Insects with curious names.
 

 
J is the Jabberwock burbling with flames.
 

 
K is the King who was whizzed through the air.
 

 
L is the Lobster who sugared his hair.
 

 
M, the Mock Turtle, whose tears freely flowed.
 

 
N is for Nobody seen on the road.
 

 
O is for Oysters who trotted so quick.
 

 
P is the Puppy who played with a stick.
 

 
Q is the Queen who ran very fast.
 

 
R is the Rabbit who blew a great blast.
 

 
S is the Sheep, on her knitting intent.
 

 
T, Tweedledum, with his noisy lament.
 

 
U is the Unicorn, valiant in feud.
 

 
V is the Violet, saucy and rude.
 

 
W, the Walrus, addicted to chat.
 

 
X, Executioner, seeking the cat.
 

 
Y is the Youth Father William surveyed.
 

 
Z is the Zigzag the mouse’s tail made.
 

The Funny Kittens

 
Once there were some silly kittens,
And they knitted woolly mittens
To bestow upon the freezing Hottentots.
But the Hottentots refused them,
Saying that they never used them
Unless crocheted of red with yellow spots.
 

 
So the silly little kittens
Took their blue and white striped mittens
To a Bear who lived within a hollow tree;
The Bear responded sadly,
“I would wear your mittens gladly,
But I fear they are too gay for such as me.”
 

 
Then the kittens, almost weeping,
Came to where a Cow lay sleeping,
And they woke her with this piteous request,
“Won’t you wear our mittens furry?”
Said the Cow, “My dears, don’t worry;
I will put them on as soon as I am dressed.”
 

 
Then the Cow put on her bonnet
With a wreath of roses on it,
And a beautiful mantilla fringed with white;
And she donned the pretty mittens,
While the silly little kittens
Clapped their paws in admiration at the sight.
 

The Strike of the Fireworks

 
’Twas the night before the Fourth of July, the people slept serene;
The fireworks were stored in the old town hall that stood on the village green.
The steeple clock tolled the midnight hour, and at its final stroke,
The fire in the queer old-fashioned stove lifted its voice and spoke;
“The earth and air have naught to do, the water, too, may play,
And only fire is made to work on Independence Day.
 
 
“I won’t stand such injustice! It’s wrong, beyond a doubt,
And I shall take my holiday. Good-by, I’m going out!”
Up spoke a Roman candle then, “The principle is right!
Suppose we strike, and all agree we will not work to-night!”
“My stars!” said a small sky-rocket. “What an awful time there’ll be,
When the whole town comes together to-night, the great display to see!”
 
 
“Let them come,” said a saucy pinwheel, “yes, let them come if they like,
As a delegate I’ll announce to them that the fireworks are going to strike!”
“My friends,” said a small cap-pistol, “this movement is all wrong,—
Gunpowder, noise, and fireworks to Fourth of July belong.
My great ancestral musket made Independence Day,
I frown on your whole conspiracy, and you are wrong, I say!”
 
 
And so they talked and they argued, some for and some against,—
And they progressed no further than they were when they commenced.
Until in a burst of eloquence a queer little piece of punk
Arose in his place and said, “I think we ought to show some spunk.
And I for one have decided, although I am no shirk,
That to-day is a legal holiday and not even fire should work.
 
 
“And I am of some importance,”—here he gave a pretentious cough,
“For without my assistance none of you could very well be put off.”
“You are right,” said the Roman candle, “and I think we are all agreed
To strike for our rights and our liberty. Hurrah! we shall succeed!”
The dissenters cried with one accord, “Our objections we withdraw.
Hurrah, hurrah for the fireworks’ strike!” and they cried again, “Hurrah!”
 
 
Then a match piped up with a tiny voice, “Your splendid scheme I like.
I agree with all your principles and so I, too, will strike!”
Suiting the action to the word, the silly little dunce
Clambered down from his matchsafe and excitedly struck at once.
He lost his head, and he ran around among the fireworks dry,
And he cried, “Hurrah for the fireworks’ strike! Hurrah for the Fourth of July!”
 
 
With his waving flame he lit the punk—a firecracker caught a spark,—
Then rockets and wheels and bombs went off—no longer the place was dark!
The explosions made a fearful noise, the flames leaped high and higher,
The village folk awoke and cried, “The town hall is on fire!”
So the strike of the fireworks ended in a wonderful display
Of pyrotechnic grandeur on Independence Day!