Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
When nobody could see:
"Take care of little kitty, please,
And bring her back to me."
I found her lying yesterday
Behind the lower shed;
I thought my heart was broken
When I found that she was dead.
Tom promised me another one;
But even he can see
No other kitty ever will be
Just the same to me.
I can't go to your party, Nannie,
Maccaroons, you say?
And ice-cream? I know
I ought to try and not give way;
And I feel it would be doing wrong
To disappoint you so.
Well, if I'm equal to it
By to-morrow, I may go!
Sydney Dayre
The Monkey and the Nuts
A monkey, being fond of nuts,
Thought he would have some roasted;
But how was he to get them done,
Not liking to be toasted?
A poor young cat was passing by,
And innocently watches;
The wicked monkey saw her stop,
And at his victim snatches.
"Dear pussy, you are just the one
That I've been looking out for;
How beautiful you look to-day,
But tell me what you pout for!
Upon my word I long have had
For you a fond affection;
Now you shall stay and dine with me,
Or take some slight refection."
"Twas no use for poor puss to speak,
Or offer to deny him,
The monkey had her in his grasp,
And she could not deny him.
So he began to laugh and chat,
And show a few grimaces;
Oh! if you had but seen, like me,
The contrast of their faces.
He put some nuts into her paw,
And he the fire approaches,
As if a salamander she.
Or made of young cockroaches.
The poor cat now began to squall,
Her face the fire attacking;
And sadly too, her paw was burnt,
The while the nuts were cracking.
The monkey having feasted well
Began to snarl and grumble,
That he should be so taken in
With nuts he scarce could mumble.
"Dear me," he said, "how they are burnt,"
And at poor pussy looking,
"I cannot think how I could bear
Such miserable cooking.
And what a fuss you make about
A little bit of warning;
I've often done the thing myself--
There's nothing so alarming.
Now take this for yourself," he said,
"And next time be less squalling:"
Then gave the cat a hearty cuff,
Which sent the poor thing sprawling.
"Now let me give you this advice,
For I am one of letters:
Leave off your rude, obstreperous way,
When you are with your betters.
And think yourself well off," he said,
"That I had mercy on you;
For many would have sent you home
Without a dress upon you."
Mrs. W. Taylor
[Page 161--More Pussy Land]
My Own Puss
I wish you could just see my cat:
She's a darling, there's no doubt of that:
So soft, and so sleek, and so fat.
Her eyes are a beautiful green,
The brightest that ever were seen:
Of cats she is truly the queen.
She loves to lie stretched in the sun
But as soon as my lessons are done,
She is ready for frolic and fun.
My kitty has two sets of claws,
Tucked away in those velvety paws:
She can use them, too, when there is cause.
I cannot thin what I should do,
If, my pussy, I ever lost you:
We're so happy together, we two!
I call her my bundle of fur:
Hark! now she's beginning to purr:
Kit loves me, and oh, I love her!
The Frolicsome Kitten
Dear kitten, do lie still, I say,
How much I want you to be quiet,
Instead of scampering away,
And always making such a riot.
There, only see! you've torn my frock,
And poor mamma must put a patch in;
I'll give you a right earnest knock,
To cure you of this trick of scratching.
Nay, do not scold your little cat,
She does not know what 'tis you're saying;
And every time you give a pat,
She thinks you mean it all for playing.
But if your pussy understood
The lesson that you want to teach her,
And did not choose to be so good,
She'd be, indeed, a naughty creature.
Putting Kitty to Bed
Kitty, Kitty, go to sleep,
Shut your eyes, and don't you peep.
Sing with me your little song,
We will not make it very long.
Hurry Kitty for to see
Mamma soon will come for me,
And I must see you safe in bed
All covered up except your head.
And while I rock you in my chair,
You must purr your little prayer,
Altho' you say it soft an low,
'Twill all be just the same you know.
Mamma makes me bend my knee,
But Kitty dear, you can't, you see,
For you're too little yet to try--
See! I'm so big, and tall, and high.
And then you can't say any words,
No more than chicks, or little birds.
But I've heard the Bible tell
That even birds are cared for well.
M. E. S.
[Page 162--Doggy Land]
Old Mother Hubbard and Her Dog
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor Dog a bone;
But when she got there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor Dog had none.
She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread,
And when she came back
The poor Dog looked dead.
She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin,
But when she came back
The poor Dog was laughing.
She took a clean dish
To get him some tripe,
But when she came back
He was smoking a pipe.
She went to the ale-house
To get him some beer,
But when she came back
The Dog sat on a chair.
She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat,
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig,
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the fruiterer's
To buy him some fruit,
But when she came back
He was playing the flute.
She went to the tailor's,
To buy him a coat,
But when she came back
He was riding a goat.
She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen,
But when she came back
The Dog was a-spinning.
She went to the hosier's
To buy him some hose,
But when she came back
He was dressed in his clothes.
She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes,
But when she came back
He was reading the news.
She went to the hotel
To get him some ale,
But when she came back,
He was wagging his tail.
She went to the tavern
For white wine and red,
But when she came back
The Dog stood on his head.
The dame made a curtsey,
The Dog made a bow;
The dame said "Your servant,"
The Dog said "Bow-wow."
This wonderful Dog
Was Dame Hubbard's delight;
He could sing, he could dance,
He could read, he could write.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him a book,
And when she came back
He at once took a look.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book two,
And when she came back
He was tying his shoe.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book three,
And when she came back
He getting his tea.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book four,
And when she came back
He sat at the door.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book five,
And when she came back
He was out for a drive.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book six
And when she came back
He was picking up sticks.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book seven,
And when she came back
He was brewing some leaven.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book eight,
And when she came back
He was baking a cake.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book nine,
And when she came back
He said it was fine.
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book ten,
And when she came back
He took it an then
She went to Cole's Book Arcade
To buy him book eleven,
And when she came back
He had gone up to heaven.
To Parents And Schoolmasters
I have been blamed for printing and distributing "Mother Hubbard." My
answer is:--"Old Mother Hubbard" has done more towards the education
of young children than perhaps any piece of reading in existence.
Amongst the hundreds of millions of English speaking people in all
parts of the earth, there are very few but can repeat a part or the
whole of "Mother Hubbard," and I have seen it somewhat asserted that
it is to be found in almost every home in the civilised world. Its
rude style of poetry tells nothing against it. The child knows
nothing of correct metre: as long as there is a jingling rhyme it is
satisfied. The dog is the domestic animal in millions of families,
and in numberless cases is actually a more loved companion then
brothers and sisters. A simple rhyme, therefore, about this attached,
playful, and constant companion is sure to fascinate the young, and
it has fascinated more than a thousand millions of the little dears.
I firmly believe that it would produce grand results if a pretty
illustrated edition of the principal nursery rhymes were made a
text-book in infant schools. You may try, and try, and try again, to
drive an ordinary dry school-book lesson into the infant mind, and
make very little progress--it is up-hill work. But take an
illustrated edition of a nursery rhyme, say the "Death of Cock
Robin," or "Mother Hubbard," and call the little one to you, begin to
teach it--how eagerly, how intently does it begin to learn now! What
animation in its little eyes! What music in its little, joyous,
interested voice! It learns this lesson ten times as fast as the
other one, and gives you ten times the pleasure in teaching it, and
this kind of teaching gradually and insensibly leads the child into a
love of learning: it interests and sets the young inquiring mind at
work. We all know how much easier it is to do a work we are
interested in than a work we are not. It is just so with the child,
and for that reason I would commence to teach the infant mind with
that which pleased it best, and so gradually create a love for
reading. For years I have allowed numbers of little children, of
their own accord, to stand and read nursery rhymes to themselves, and
to teach other youths to read interesting and instructive fiction,
gratis, in the Book Arcade; and I hold that, by its enticingly
creating a love for reading, which will lead to something higher,
time is one of the best and most effective schools in the country.
--E. W. Cole
[Page 163--Doggy Land]
Tom Tinker's Dog
Bow, wow, wow, whose dog art tho?
I'm Tom Tinker's dog, and I'll bite you.
Puppy
There was an Old Man of Leghorn,
The smallest as ever was born;
But quickly snapt up he
Was once by a puppy,
Who devoured that Old Man of Leghorn.
Doggy
The cat sat asleep by the side of the fire,
The mistress snored loud as a pig;
Jack took up his fiddle by doggy's desire,
And struck up a bit of a jig.
Hark, the Dogs bark
Hark, hark, the dogs do bark,
Beggars are coming to town;
Some in jags, some in rags,
And some in velvet gown.
Poor Dog Bright
Poor dog Bright
Ran off with all his might,
Because the cat was after him:
Poor dog Bright.
Dog Blue Bell
I had a little dog, and his name was Blue Bell,
I gave him some work, and he did it very well;
I sent him up stairs to pick up a pin,
He stepped into the coal-scuttle up to the chin;
I sent him to the garden to pick some sage,
He tumbled down and fell in a rage;