by Allie Esiri
Descending from the ’bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.
‘If this should stay to dine,’ he said,
‘There won’t be much for us!’
He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.
‘Were I to swallow this,’ he said,
‘I should be very ill!’
He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
‘Poor thing,’ he said, ‘poor silly thing!
It’s waiting to be fed!’
He thought he saw an Albatross
That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
A Penny-Postage-Stamp.
‘You’d best be getting home,’ he said,
‘The nights are very damp!’
He thought he saw a Garden-Door
That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
‘And all its mystery,’ he said,
‘Is clear as day to me!’
He thought he saw an Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
‘A fact so dread,’ he faintly said,
‘Extinguishes all hope!’
3 April • The Jumblies • Edward Lear
Lewis Carroll and Edward Lear were the kings of nonsense writing. Lear is best known for the narrative poem ‘The Owl and the Pussycat’, and he also helped to popularize the limerick form (‘There once was a poet named Lear . . .’). ‘The Jumblies’ is an example of one of Lear’s most inventive and madcap poems.
I
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 sea!’
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.
II
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 riband by way of a sail,
To a small tobacco-pipe mast;
And every one said, who saw them go,
‘O 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!’
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.
III
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!’
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.
IV
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 Timballo! 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!’
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.
V
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 Jack-daws,
And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,
And no end of Stilton Cheese.
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.
VI
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.
3 April • The Spider and the Fly • Mary Botham Howitt
In this, her most well-known poem, published in 1829, the English writer Mary Botham Howitt entertains us with a cautionary tale …
‘Will you walk into my parlour?’ said the Spider to the Fly,
‘’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I’ve got many curious things to show when you are there.’
‘Oh no, no,’ said the little Fly, ‘to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.’
‘I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?’ said the Spider to the Fly.
‘There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in!’
‘Oh no, no,’ said the little Fly, ‘for I’ve often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!’
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, ‘Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice;
I’m sure you’re very welcome – will you please to take a slice?’
‘Oh no, no,’ said the little Fly, ‘kind sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!’
‘Sweet creature!’ said the Spider, ‘you’re witty and you’re wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I’ve a little looking-gl
ass upon my parlour shelf,
If you’ll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.’
‘I thank you, gentle sir,’ she said, ‘for what you’re pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I’ll call another day.’
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
‘Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple – there’s a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!’
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue –
Thinking only of her crested head – poor foolish thing!
At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour – but she ne’er came out again!
And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.
4 April • The Mock Turtle’s Song • Lewis Carroll
In Victorian times, mock turtle soup was a popular dish that used cheap cuts and offal to look like expensive turtle meat. In Alice in Wonderland, Alice meets a creature called the Mock Turtle, a pun on the name of this popular soup, as there really was no such creature. ‘The Mock Turtle’s Song’, which he performs for Alice accompanied by a dance, is a parody of the previous poem by Mary Botham Howitt.
‘Will you walk a little faster?’ said a whiting to a snail.
‘There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle— will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
‘You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!’
But the snail replied ‘Too far, too far!’ and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.
‘What matters it how far we go?’ his scaly friend replied.
‘There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?’
4 April • Who Killed Cock Robin? • Anon.
Robert Walpole became Britain’s first Prime Minister on this day in 1721. He was in power until 1742, the longest serving Prime Minister in British history, but he eventually fell from power after a group of detractors rose against him. It is popularly thought that these lines relate to Walpole’s downfall. Despite the bloody theme of the song, which has featured in many novels and murder mysteries, there is a childlike quality to the short lines and neat rhymes.
Who killed Cock Robin?
‘I,’ said the Sparrow,
‘With my little bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.’
Who saw him die?
‘I,’ said the Fly,
‘With my little eye,
I saw him die.’
Who’ll dig his grave?
‘I,’ said the Owl,
‘With my spade and show’l,
I’ll dig his grave.’
Who’ll be the Parson?
‘I,’ said the Rook,
‘With my little book,
I’ll be the Parson.’
Who will be chief mourner?
‘I,’ said the Dove,
‘For I mourn my love,
I shall be chief mourner.’
Who’ll sing a psalm?
‘I,’ said the Thrush,
‘As I sit in a bush.
I’ll sing a psalm.’
Who’ll carry the coffin?
‘I,’ said the Kite,
‘If it’s not in the night,
I’ll carry the coffin.’
Who’ll toll the bell?
‘I,’ said the Bull,
‘Because I can pull,
I’ll toll the bell.’
All the birds of the air
Fell sighing and sobbing,
When the heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.
5 April • First Word (After Helen Keller) • Rachel Rooney
In 1904, Helen Keller became the first deaf and blind person to graduate from university. Her remarkable story can be traced back to 5 April 1887, when she learned her first words. Her hand was held under the flow water from a pump, and the letters for ‘water’ were spelt on her other palm. This poem captures the moment that the mystery of language was revealed to her.
This thing she’s feeling
This thing she’s feeling
is nameless cold
in her other palm
that can’t be held.
is nameless warm.
This unheard sound
This unseen sound
its unseen lettering
its unheard lettering
drums her outstretched skin
drums her outstretched skin
like fingertips.
like drops of rain.
This thing is spilling over.
This thing is spelling water.
5 April • You Are Old, Father William • Lewis Carroll
This poem, also featured in Alice in Wonderland, is a mischievous parody of Robert Southey’s poem ‘The Old Man’s Comforts’. In Southey’s poem Father William explains that the reason he has found such contentment in his old age is because he led a virtuous, restrained life in his youth, and always ‘remembered my God’. Carroll literally turns this poem on its head, as his Father William ‘incessantly’ stands on his head, as well as arguing the benefits of a life full of pleasure, arguments, extreme physical activity and magical ointment.
‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said,
‘And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?’
‘In my youth,’ Father William replied to his son,
‘I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.’
‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door –
Pray, what is the reason of that?’
‘In my youth,’ said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
‘I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box –
Allow me to sell you a couple?’
‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘and your jaws are too weak
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak –
Pray, how did you manage to do it?’
‘In my youth,’ said his father, ‘I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.’
‘You are old,’ said the youth, ‘one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose –
What made you so awfully clever?’
‘I have answered three questions, and that is enough,’
Said his father. ‘Don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!’
6 April • The People of the Eastern Ice • Rudyard Kipling
On 6 April 1909, the American explorer Robert Peary reported that he had become the first man to reach the North Pole. Though Rudyard Kipling never visited the Arctic, he nevertheless wrote this poem as an introduction to the Jungle Book story ‘Quiquern’. ‘Quiquern’ is a monstrous dog spirit in Inuit mythology, and Kipling’s tale follows two Inuit men as they hunt for food for their starving tribe. Today, the poem has new relevance, as a song of an endangered culture ‘melting like snow’ takes on fresh meaning in the age of climate change.
The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow –
They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go.
The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;
They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to the white.
The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler’s crew;
Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.
But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man’s ken –
Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the last of the Men!
6 April • Old Mother Hubbard • Anon.
This popular nursery rhyme was first printed in 1805, although it is thought to date from possibly even centuries before. There is one theory that the poem was written in Tudor times as a mockery of Cardinal Wolsey’s failed attempt to obtain an annulment of Henry VIII’s marriage to Katherine of Aragon. So ‘Mother Hubbard’ is Wolsey, the ‘bone’ is the divorce agreement he was seeking to get for the ‘doggie’ – the king!
