Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
If you say do this, or that,
She will be amazed thereat,
Show her claws like any cat.
O she is a naughty child!
Very fond of running wild,
Never gentle, meek, or mild.
Some fine day, I don't know when--
She'll be popp'd in piggy's pen,
And be most unhappy then.
Pigs are stubborn things indeed,
Will not go as you would lead,
Never words of counsel heed.
And pig-headed folks are they
Who will always have their way,
Spite of anything you say.
Sluttishness
Oh! Mary, my mary,
Why, where is your dolly?
Look here, I protest, on the floor:
To leave her about
In the dirt so is folly,
You ought to be trusted no more.
I thought you were pleas'd.
And receiv'd her quite gladly,
When on your birthday she came home;
Did I ever suppose
You would use her so sadly,
And strew her things over the room?
Her bonnet of straw
You once thought a great matter,
And tied it so pretty and neat;
Now see how 'tis crumpled,
No trencher is flatter,
It grieves your mamma thus to see't.
Suppose (you're my Dolly,
You know, little daughter,
Whom I love to dress neat, and see good),
Suppose in my care of you,
I were to falter,
And let you get dirty and rude!
But Dolly's mere wood,
You are flesh and bone living,
And deserves better treatment and care;
That is true, my sweet girl,
'Tis the reason I'm giving
This lesson so sharp and severe.
'Tis not for the Dolly
I'm anxious and fearful,
Tho' she cost too much to be spoil'd;
I'm afraid lest yourself
Should get sluttish, not careful,
And that were a sad thing, my child.
Jane, who Bit her Nails
When I was living down in Wales,
I knew a girl who bit her nails;
Her finger-ends became so sore,
The blood flowed from them to the floor.
The more she bit the more they bled,
Until upon herself she fed;
And as she nibbled day by day,
The fingers slowly wore away.
See, here she is: she sadly stands
With only stumps instead of hands;
The silly girl can never play,
Yet she was cautioned every day.
Her father said, "You naughty thing,
Some wooden fingers I must bring,
And try to get them fastened to
Your hands with little bits of glue."
Poking Fun
When little Lizzie came across
A birdie, or a chick,
A duckling, or a gosling,
she would poke it with a stick.
She chased the dog, she chased the cat,
But when she saw a mouse
She gave a scream so very loud
It echoed through the house.
She poked the turtles and the frogs
And thought it was fine fun,
But when the geese poked out their necks
At her, she had to run.
One day she chanced to find a hive
With not a bee about,
And said, "Is any one at home?
"I'll very soon find out!"
And so she did. As soon as she
Had poked her stick inside,
The bees flew out and stung her so
She very nearly died.
[Page 23--Girl Land]
The Pin
"Dear me! what signifies a pin,
Wedg'd in a rotten board?
I'm certain that I won't begin,
At ten years old, to hoard!
I never will be called a miser;
That I'm determined," said Eliza.
So onward tripped the little maid,
And left the pin behind,
Which very snug and quiet lay,
To its hard fate resign'd;
Nor did she think (a careless chit)
'Twas worth her while to stoop for it.
Next day a party was to ride
To see an air balloon;
And all the company beside
Were dressed and ready soon:
But she a woful case was in,
For want of just a single pin.
In vain her eager eyes she brings
To ev'ry darksome crack,
There was not one! and yet her things
Were dropping off her back.
She cut her pincushion in two,
But no, not one had slidden through.
At last, as hunting on the floor,
Over a crack she lay,
The carriage rattled to the door,
Then rattled fast away:
But poor Eliza was not in,
For want of just a single pin.
There's hardly anything so small,
So trifling or so mean,
That we may never want at all,
For service unforseen;
And wilful waste, depend upon't
Brings, almost always, woful want!
Ann Taylor
Stupid Jane
Oh! she was such a stupid Jane,
They tried in vain
To make things plain,
But she would ask and ask again,
As if there wasn't any brain
Inside the head of stupid Jane.
If she was set to do a task,
So many questions she would ask,
'Twas easier far her teachers said
To do the work themselves instead,
Than try to make her understand
The lesson she had in hand.
If on an errand told to go,
And cautioned to do thus and so,
Turn here and there along the way,
Oh! Jane was sure to go astray;
For she hade such a crooked pate,
She could not do an errand straight.
She did not care for books or toys,
She could not play with girls or boys;
Because so oft she blocked their games,
They used to call her dreadful names,
And in loud, angry tones complain,
"Oh, what a horrid, Stupid Jane!"
Brought to the parlour nicely drest
To be presented to a guest,
With finger in her mouth she'd stand
And stare about on every hand,
Nor answer by a single word,
Nor even act as if she heard.
Oh! she was such a stupid Jane,
They tried in vain
To make things plain,
But she would ask and ask again,
As if there wasn't any brain
Inside the head of stupid Jane.
Little Girl who wouldn't eat Crusts
The awfullest times that ever could be
They had with a bad little girl of Dundee,
Who never would finish her crust
In vain they besought her,
And patiently taught her
And told her she must.
Her grandma would coax,
And so would the folks,
And tell her the sinning
Of such a beginning.
But no, she wouldn't.
She couldn't, she shouldn't,
She'd have them to know--
So they might as well go.
And what do you think came to pass?
This little girl of Dundee, alas!
Who wouldn't take crusts the regular way,
Sat down to a feast one summer's day;
And what did the people that little girl give?
Why, a dish of bread pudding--as sure as I live!
Pouting Polly
Polly was a little girl,
Pretty as a posy;
Rather straight, and rather tall;
Very round and rosy.
Other little girls and boys
Always were delighted,
So if to pretty Polly's house
They had been invited.
There they'd romp, and have great fun,
Frolicking and shouting;
But alas! they soon would find
Pretty Polly pouting!
What had any one done?
How had they displeased her?
Was she sad or mad because
Johnny Dean had teased her?
Why are you so cross and glum
When the rest are jolly?
With your under-lip thrust out,
Tell us, pouting Polly!
Polly loves to have her way;
Ah! no one can doubt it;
And whenever she's displeased
She will pout about it.
Such a funny under-lip!
You would like to grab it,
So that little Polly might
Break this naughty habit.
In the house or out-of-doors,
Little Polly Horner
You will find a dozen times
Pouting in a corner.
Once, when in the garden she
Stood thus melancholy,
On her under-lip a bee
Stung Miss Pouting Polly.
Then she danced, and then she screamed;
People heard her yelling
Half-a-mile or more away,
While her lip was swelling.
Oh, it swelled, and swelled, and swelled,
Like a great big blister,
And the pain was very great
Where the bee had kissed her.
Many days she kept her bed;
And there is no doubting
That the sorry little maid
Had her fill of pouting.
For the buzzing busy-bee
Cured her of her folly;
And the remedy will cure
Any pouting Polly.
Untidy Emily
Oh, here's a sad picture!
Pray carefully look!
As sad as was ever
Yet seen in a book.
'Tis Emily's portrait:
Not at all flattered.
Slovenly, dirty, untidy,
And tattered.
Her mother implores her,
Again and again,
To make herself tidy;
But all is in vain.
Her trimmings are torn;
There's a hole in her dress;
Another, still larger;
Her shoes in a mess;
Stockings down, buttons missing;
Shabby old hat,
Not for worlds would I
Wear it, battered and flat.
Her mother does nothing
But patch, darn and mend,
Till, saddened and weary,
She says, "This must end.
"All, all is in vain.
And now, happen what may,
I can do nothing more;
So go your own way."
A terrible thing
Very soon now befell,
Oh, horror! I shudder
The story to tell.
This girl ran quite wild;
Till at last she became
All tatters and rags,
With no feeling of shame.
A man, who was passing,
Then took her one day,
And in his field placed her,
To scare birds away.
She is still standing there;
Stands there day and night.
The sparrows fly round her,
And cry in affright:
"Look at this dreadful thing!
Take care now, take care!
Beware of the scarecrow!
Beware, now, beware!"
[Page 24--Girl Land]
Maidenhood
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow lies,
Like a dusk in evening skies!
Thou, whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run!
Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet!
Womanhood and childhood fleet!
Gazing, with a timid glance,
On the brooklet's swift advance,
On the river's broad expanse!
Deep and still, that gliding stream
Beautiful to thee must seem,
As the river of a dream.
Then why pause with indecision,
When bright angels in thy vision
Beckon thee to fields of Elysian?
Seest thou shadows sailing by,
As the dove, with startled eye,
Sees the falcon's shadow fly?
Hearest thou voices on the shore,
That our ears perceive no more,
Deafen'd by the cataract's roar?
O, thou child of many prayers!
Life hath quicksands--Life hath snares!
Care and age come unawares!
Like the swell of some sweet tune,
Morning rises into noon,
May glides onward into June
Childhood is the bough where slumber'd
Birds and blossoms many-number'd--
Age, that bough with snows encumber'd
Gather, then each flower that grows,
When the young heart overflows,
To embalm that tent of snows
Bear a lily in thy hand;
Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of that magic wand
Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth,
In thy heart the dew of youth,
On thy lips the smile of truth.
Oh! that dew, like balm, shall steal
Into wounds, that cannot heal,
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal:
And that smile, like sunshine, dart
Into many a sunless heart,
For a smile of God thou art.
Longfellow
Girls that are in Demand
The girls that are wanted are good girls--
Good from the heart to the lips;
Pure as the lily is white and pure,
From it's heart to its sweet leaf tips.
The girls that are wanted are home girls--
Girls that are a mother's right hand,
That fathers and brothers can trust to,
And the little ones understand.
The girls that are fair on the hearthstone,
And pleasant when nobody sees;
Kind and sweet to their own folks,
Ready and anxious to please.
The girls that are wanted are wise girls,
That know what to do and to say;
That drive with a smile and soft word