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JUST NONSENSE

No sun-no moon!

No morn-no noon

No dawn-no dusk

NO!

-no proper time of day—

No sky-no earthly view

No distance looking blue

No road-no street-no "t'other side the way"

No end to any Row

No indications where the Crescents go

No top to any steeple

No recognitions of familiar people--

No courtesies for showing 'em

No knowing 'em!

No travelling at all-no locomotion,

No inkling of the way-no notion"No go"-by land or ocean

No mail-no post

No news from any foreign coast

No park-no ring-no afternoon gentility

No company-no nobility

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member→→→

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

Thomas Hood (1799-1845]

TO MINERVA

FROM THE GREEK

My temples throb, my pulses boil,

I'm sick of Song, and Ode, and Ballad→

So, Thyrsis, take the Midnight Oil, 1

And pour it on a lobster salad.

My brain is dull, my sight is foul,
I cannot write a verse, or read,-
Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl,
And let us have a lark instead.

Thomas Hood (1799-1845]

THE ALPHABET

A is an Angel of blushing eighteen;

B is the Ball where the Angel was seen;

C is the Chaperon, who cheated at cards;
D is the Deuxtemps with Frank of the Guards;

E is the Eye, killing slowly but surely;

F is the Fan whence it peeped so demurely;

G is the Glove of superlative kid;

H is the Hand which it spitefully hid;

I is the Ice which the fair one demanded;

Jis the Juvenile that dainty who handed;
K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art;

L is the Lace which composed the chief part;
M is the old Maid who watched the chits dance;
N is the Nose she turned up at each glance;
O is the Olga (just then in its prime);
P is the Partner who wouldn't keep time;
Q is a Quadrille put instead of the Lancers;
R is the Remonstrances made by the dancers;
S is the Supper where all went in pairs;
T is the Twaddle they talked on the stairs;
U is the Uncle who "thought we'd be goin'";

V is the Voice which his niece replied "No" in;
W is the Waiter who sat up till eight;

X is the exit, not rigidly straight;

Y is the Yawning fit caused by the Ball;

Z stands for Zero, or nothing at all. ›

Charles Stuart Calverley [1831-1884]

A TRAGIC STORY

THERE lived a sage in days of yore,
And he a handsome pigtail wore;
But wondered much, and sorrowed more,
Because it hung behind him.

He mused upon this curious case,

And swore he'd change the pigtail's place,
And have it hanging at his face,

Not dangling there behind him.

Says he, "The mystery I've found,-
I'll turn me round," he turned him round;
But still it hung behind him.

Then round and round, and out and in,
All day the puzzled sage did spin;
In vain-it mattered not a pin,→
The pigtail hung behind him.

And right, and left, and round about,
And up, and down, and in, and out
He turned; but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him.

And though his efforts never slack,
And though he twist, and twirl, and tack,
Alas! still faithful to his back,

The pigtail hangs behind him.

William Makepeace Thackeray [1811-1863]

THE JUMBLIES

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 button; we don't care a fig:
In a sieve we'll go to sca!"

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.

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 be soon 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."

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 passed 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."

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.”

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:

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 [1812-1888]

THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT

THE Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:

They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above;

And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!

Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

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