Laughable Lyrics by Edward Lear (short story to read TXT) π
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- Author: Edward Lear
Read book online Β«Laughable Lyrics by Edward Lear (short story to read TXT) πΒ». Author - Edward Lear
The Frog and the Fimble Fowl (The Fimble Fowl, with a Corkscrew leg);
And all of them said, "We humbly beg
We may build our homes on your lovely Hat,β
Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!
Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!"
V.
And the Golden Grouse came there,
And the Pobble who has no toes, And the small Olympian bear,
And the Dong with a luminous nose. And the Blue Baboon who played the flute,
And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute,
And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat,β
All came and built on the lovely Hat
Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
VI.
And the Quangle Wangle said
To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, "When all these creatures move
What a wonderful noise there'll be!" And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon
They danced to the Flute of the Blue Baboon,
On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree,
And all were as happy as happy could be,
With the Quangle Wangle Quee.
An Indian Poem.
I.
She sate upon her Dobie, To watch the Evening Star, And all the Punkahs, as they passed, Cried, "My! how fair you are!" Around her bower, with quivering leaves, The tall Kamsamahs grew, And Kitmutgars in wild festoons Hung down from Tchokis blue.
II.
Below her home the river rolled With soft meloobious sound, Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam, In myriads circling round. Above, on tallest trees remote Green Ayahs perched alone, And all night long the Mussak moan'd Its melancholy tone.
III.
And where the purple Nullahs threw Their branches far and wide,
And silvery Goreewallahs flew In silence, side by side, The little Bheesties' twittering cry Rose on the flagrant air, And oft the angry Jampan howled Deep in his hateful lair.
IV.
She sate upon her Dobie, She heard the Nimmak hum, When all at once a cry arose, "The Cummerbund is come!" In vain she fled: with open jaws The angry monster followed, And so (before assistance came) That Lady Fair was swollowed.
V.
They sought in vain for even a bone Respectfully to bury; They said, "Hers was a dreadful fate!" (And Echo answered, "Very.") They nailed her Dobie to the wall, Where last her form was seen, And underneath they wrote these words, In yellow, blue, and green:
"Beware, ye Fair! Ye Fair, beware! Nor sit out late at night, Lest horrid Cummerbunds should come, And swollow you outright."
NOTE.βFirst published in Times of India, Bombay, July, 1874.
Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT?
Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or chair,
or SQUAT?
The Akond of Swat?
Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
or HOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk,
or TROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,
or a COT,
The Akond of Swat?
When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's
with a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
or PLOT,
At the Akond of Swat?
If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
or shot,
The Akond of Swat?
Do his people prig in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
GAROTTE?
O the Akond of Swat!
Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
a JOT,
The Akond of Swat?
To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
or WHAT,
For the Akond of Swat?
At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
or a LOT,
For the Akond of Swat?
Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
or a DOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
SHALLOTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or a Russ,
or a SCOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,
or a GROTT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?
or a POT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,
When she lets the gooseberries grow too ripe,
or ROT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends,
or a KNOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?
When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,
or NOT,
The Akond of Swat?
Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?
Does he sail about on an inland lake,
in a YACHT,
The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
Who or which or why or what
Is the Akond of Swat!
NOTE.βFor the existence of this potentate see Indian newspapers, passim. The proper way to read the verses is to make an immense emphasis on the monosyllabic rhymes, which indeed ought to be shouted out by a chorus.
Armchairia Comfortabilis Bassia Palealensis Bubblia Blowpipia Bluebottlia Buzztilentia Crabbia Horrida Smalltoothcombia Domestica Knutmigrata Simplice Tureenia Ladlecum Puffia Leatherbellowsa Queeriflora BabyΓΆides
Armchairia Comfortabilis.
Bassia Palealensis.
Bubblia Blowpipia.
Bluebottlia Buzztilentia.
Crabbia Horrida.
Smalltoothcombia Domestica.
Knutmigrata Simplice.
Tureenia Ladlecum.
Puffia Leatherbellowsa.
Queeriflora BabyΓΆides.
No. 5 No. 6
A
A was an Area Arch
Where washerwomen sat; They made a lot of lovely starch
To starch Papa's Cravat.
B
B was a Bottle blue,
Which was not very small; Papa he filled it full of beer, And then he drank it all.
C
C was Papa's gray Cat,
Who caught a squeaky Mouse; She pulled him by his twirly tail
All about the house.
D
D was Papa's white Duck,
Who had a curly tail; One day it ate a great fat frog,
Besides a leetle snail.
E
E was a little Egg,
Upon the breakfast table; Papa came in and ate it up
As fast as he was able.
F
F was a little Fish.
Cook in the river took it Papa said, "Cook! Cook! bring a dish!
And, Cook! be quick and cook it!"
G
G was Papa's new Gun;
He put it in a box; And then he went and bought a bun,
And walked about the Docks.
H
H was Papa's new Hat;
He wore it on his head; Outside it was completely black,
But inside it was red.
I
I was an Inkstand new,
Papa he likes to use it; He keeps it in his pocket now,
For fear that he should lose it.
J
J was some Apple Jam,
Of which Papa ate part; But all the rest he took away
And stuffed into a tart.
K
K was a great new Kite;
Papa he saw it fly Above a thousand chimney pots,
And all about the sky.
L
L was a fine new Lamp;
But when the wick was lit, Papa he said, "This Light ain't good!
I cannot read a bit!"
M
M was a dish of mince;
It looked so good to eat! Papa, he quickly ate it up,
And said, "This is a treat!"
N
N was a Nut that grew
High up upon a tree; Papa, who could not reach it, said,
"That's much too high for me!"
O
O was an Owl who flew
All in the dark away, Papa said, "What an owl you are!
Why don't you fly by day?"
P
P
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