Cole's Funny Picture Book No. 1
dinner."
The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be up to
the little pig somehow or other, so he said, "Little pig, I know
where there is a nice apple tree." "Where?" said the little pig.
"Down at Merry Garden," replied the wolf, "and if you will not
deceive me I will come for you at five o'clock to-morrow, and we will
go together and get some apples."
Well, the pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock, and went
off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he
had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was
coming down from it he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may
suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said,
"Little pig, what; are you here before me? Are they nice apples?"
"Yes, very," said the little pig, "I will throw you down one." And he
threw it so far that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the
little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came
again, and said "Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this
afternoon, will you go?" Oh, yes," said the pig, "I will go: what
time shall you be ready?" "At three," said the wolf.
So the little pig went off before the time as usual, got to the fair,
and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with, when he saw
the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into
the churn to hide, and by doing so turned it around, and it rolled
down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much
that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the little
pig's house and told him how frightened he had been by a great round
thing which came down the hill past him.
Then the little pig said "Ha! I frightened you, then. I had been to
the fair and bought a butter-churn, and when I saw you I got into it
and rolled down the hill." Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and
declared he would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down
the chimney after him.
When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung onto the pot full
of water, and made up a blazing fire, and just as the wolf was coming
down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put
on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for
supper, and lived happy ever afterwards.
[Page 178--Rabbit Land]
The Wild Rabbits
Among the sand-hills,
Near by the sea,
Wild young rabbits
Were seen by me.
They live in burrows
With winding-ways,
And there they shelter
On rainy days.
The mother rabbits
Make cosy nests,
With hairy linings
From their breasts.
The tender young ones
Are nursed and fed,
And safely hidden
In this warm bed.
And when they are older,
They all come out
Upon the sand-hills
And frisk about.
They play and nibble
The long, dry grass,
But scamper away
Whenever you pass.
Disobedient Bunny
A pert little rabbit,
Once lived in a hole,
And just did whatever he pleased;
His ways were so funny,
His antics so droll,
That his parents were terribly teased.
"Now, dear," said his mother,
"You'd best stay at home,
And try to be patient and good."
But No! he was fully
Determined to roam
Through the green and beautiful wood.
So what did he do?
On a fine summer day,
When mother was not to be seen,
He took to his heels,
And scampered away
Right over the meadow so green.
He shook his long ears,
And he whisked up his tail,
His eyes dancing with glee,
As onward he ran
Through a beautiful vale,
And oh! how delighted was he!
'Twas not very long
Till he found a haystack,
Where of course there was shelter and food.
Said he to himself,
"Now, I'll never go back
To my stupid old home in the wood.
"I'll dig myself a nice den
For myself in the hay;
How warm it will be and how nice!
Why in my old burrow
Full many a day
I've often felt colder than ice!"
So bunny soon dug him
A nice little hole,
And made it as round as an O;
And really he looked
So exceedingly droll,
You'd have laughed had you seen him, I know.
But evening drew on,
It was lonely and dark,
So Bunny lay down in his den;
Said he to himself,
"I'll get up with the lark,
And won't I be ravenous then!
"For really this hay,
Though it does for a nest,
Is somewhat too dry for my food;
At home there is clover,
The thing I love best,
And lettuce and carrots so good.
"I wish I had some
At this moment! but then
I'm out on my travels just now,
And I greatly prefer
To reside in this den,
Than at home where there's often a row!
"Ah, well! I feel sleepy,
I'd best go to bed--
But what is that noise that I hear?
There seems to be someone
Right over my head,
I hope that no wild beasts are near!"
Meanwhile an old fox
With a great bushy tail
Was prowling about and around,
But poor little Bunny
Was hidden so well
That never a bit was he found!
When morning had come,
And the fox disappeared,
Then Bunny came forth to the light,
Said he to himself,
"It was just as I feared,
A fox has been here through the night.
"I think I had better
Go scampering home
To the dear little home in the wood,
And never, oh never
Again will I roam,
Or leave my dear mother so good."
Away then he ran,
Without once looking back,
Till he saw the dear home he loved best.
And mother came hopping
Along the hard track
To welcome him home to the nest.
And, oh! such a breakfast
Before him there lay,
Such clover and grass from the wood;
And always I've heard,
From that terrible day,
That Bunny is patient and good.
B. R. McKean
The Pet Rabbit
I have a little Bunny
With his coat as soft as down,
And nearly all of him is white
Except one bit of brown.
The first thing in the morning,
When I get out of bed,
I wonder if my bunny's still
Safe in his shed.
And then the next thing that I do,
I daresay you have guessed;
It's at once to go and see him,
When I am washed and dressed.
And every day I see him,
I like him more and more,
And each day he is bigger
Than he was the day before.
I feed him in the morning
With bran and bits of bread.
And every night I take some straw
To make his little bed.
What with carrots in the morning
And turnip-tops for tea,
If a bunny can be happy,
I'm sure he ought to be.
Then when it's nearly bed-time
I go down to his shed,
And say "Good-night, you bunny!"
Before I go to bed,
I think there's only one thing
That would make me happy quite,
If I could take my bunny dear
With me to bed at night.
Robert Mack
[Page 179--Hare Land]
The Little Hare
Beyond the palings of the park
A Hare had made her form,
Beneath a drooping fern, that made
A shelter snug and warm.
She slept until the daylight came,
And all thinks were awake,
And then the Hare, with noiseless steps,
Crept softly from the brake.
She stroked her whiskers with her paws,
Looked timidly around
With open eyes and ears erect
That caught the smallest sound.
The Field-Mouse rustled in the grass,
The Squirrel in the trees,
But Puss was not at all afraid
Of common sounds like these.
She frisked and gambolled with delight,
And cropped a leaf or two
Of clover and of tender grass,
That glistened in the dew.
What was it, then, that made her start,
And run away so fast?
She heard the distant sound of hounds,
She heard the huntsman's blast.
Tally-ho!-hoy tally-ho!
The hounds are in full cry;
Ehew! ehew--in scarlet coats
The men are sweeping by.
So off she set with a spring and a bound,
Over the meadows and open ground,
Faster than hunter and faster than hound
And on--and on--till she lost the sound,
And away went the little Hare.
Aunt Effie
Peter and the Hare
Thoughtless little Peter,
With his little gun,
Went out by the woodside
For a little fun;
Saw a happy little hare,
Who on clover fed--
With his little gun took aim
And shot him in the head.
Thoughtful little Peter,
Sad for what he'd done,
Sat down on a stump, and there
By it laid his gun;
Wished that he could bring to life
That little hare so still;
"Never more," said he, "will I
A harmless creature kill."
Epitaph on a Hare
Here lies whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo.
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack-hare.
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,
And when he could he would bite.
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippin's russet peel;
And when his juicy salads fail'd,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.
A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing himself around.
His frisking was at evening hours
For then he'd lost his fear!
But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,
Dozing out all his idle noons
And every night at play.
I kept him for his humour's sake,
For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.
But now, beneath this walnut shade,
He finds his long last home,
And waits, in snug concealment laid
Till gentler puss shall come.
He, still more aged, feels the shocks
From which no care can save;
And partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.
William Cowper
Punch's Appeal for the Hunted Hare
All on the bare and bleak hillside,
One night this merry Christmastide,
A shivering hunted hare did hide;
Poor Pussy!
Though we had hunted puss all day,
The wind had blown her scent away,
And balked the dogs, so there she lay,
Poor Pussy!
There to the earth she humbly crept,
There brooding o'er her lot she wept,
There, on her empty stomach she slept.
Poor Pussy!
And there, while frozen fell the dew,
She dreamt an ugly dream or two,
As starved, wet folk are apt to do,
Did Pussy!
Loud hungry hounds of subtle ken,
And thundering steeds, and hard-eyed men,
Are fast on Pussy's trail again,
Poor Pussy!
Onwards she strains, on, as they tear
Foremost amongst the foremost there,
Are ruthless women's faces fair;
Poor Pussy!
One moment's check, to left, to right,
In vain she spends her little might,
Some yokel's eyes have marked her flight,
Poor Pussy!
What use her fine small wits to rack!
Closer, and faster on her track
Hurries the hydra-headed pack,
Lost Pussy!