Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Edward Lear Read online

Multitude-echoes from Bird and Bird, —

  Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!

  We think no Birds so happy as we!

  Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!

  We think so then, and we thought so still!

  Yes, they came; and among the rest

  The King of the Cranes all grandly dressed.

  Such a lovely tail! Its feathers float

  Between the ends of his blue dress-coat;

  With pea-green trowsers all so neat,

  And a delicate frill to hide his feet

  (For though no one speaks of it, every one knows

  He has got no webs between his toes).

  As soon as he saw our Daughter Dell,

  In violent love that Crane King fell, —

  On seeing her waddling form so fair,

  With a wreath of shrimps in her short white hair.

  And before the end of the next long day

  Our Dell had given her heart away;

  For the King of the Cranes had won that heart

  With a Crocodile’s egg and a large fish-tart.

  She vowed to marry the King of the Cranes,

  Leaving the Nile for stranger plains;

  And away they flew in a gathering crowd

  Of endless birds in a lengthening cloud.

  Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!

  We think no Birds so happy as we!

  Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!

  We think so then, and we thought so still!

  And far away in the twilight sky

  We heard them singing a lessening cry, —

  Farther and farther, till out of sight,

  And we stood alone in the silent night!

  Often since, in the nights of June,

  We sit on the sand and watch the moon, —

  She has gone to the great Gromboolian Plain,

  And we probably never shall meet again!

  Oft, in the long still nights of June,

  We sit on the rocks and watch the moon, —

  She dwells by the streams of the Chankly Bore.

  And we probably never shall see her more.

  Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!

  We think no Birds so happy as we!

  Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!

  We think so then, and we thought so still!

  THE COURTSHIP OF THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BÒ.

  I.

  On the Coast of Coromandel

  Where the early pumpkins blow,

  In the middle of the woods

  Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  Two old chairs, and half a candle,

  One old jug without a handle, —

  These were all his worldly goods:

  In the middle of the woods,

  These were all the worldly goods

  Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Of the Yonghy-Bonghy Bò.

  II.

  Once, among the Bong-trees walking

  Where the early pumpkins blow,

  To a little heap of stones

  Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  There he heard a Lady talking,

  To some milk-white Hens of Dorking, —

  “’Tis the Lady Jingly Jones!

  On that little heap of stones

  Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  III.

  “Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!

  Sitting where the pumpkins blow,

  Will you come and be my wife?”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  “I am tired of living singly —

  On this coast so wild and shingly, —

  I’m a-weary of my life;

  If you’ll come and be my wife,

  Quite serene would be my life!”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  IV.

  “On this Coast of Coromandel

  Shrimps and watercresses grow,

  Prawns are plentiful and cheap,”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  “You shall have my chairs and candle,

  And my jug without a handle!

  Gaze upon the rolling deep

  (Fish is plentiful and cheap);

  As the sea, my love is deep!”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  V.

  Lady Jingly answered sadly,

  And her tears began to flow, —

  “Your proposal comes too late,

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  I would be your wife most gladly!”

  (Here she twirled her fingers madly,)

  “But in England I’ve a mate!

  Yes! you’ve asked me far too late,

  For in England I’ve a mate,

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  VI.

  “Mr. Jones (his name is Handel, —

  Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)

  Dorking fowls delights to send,

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  Keep, oh, keep your chairs and candle,

  And your jug without a handle, —

  I can merely be your friend!

  Should my Jones more Dorkings send,

  I will give you three, my friend!

  Mr. Yonghy-Bongy-Bò!

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  VII.

  “Though you’ve such a tiny body,

  And your head so large doth grow, —

  Though your hat may blow away,

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!

  Though you’re such a Hoddy Doddy,

  Yet I wish that I could modi-

  fy the words I needs must say!

  Will you please to go away?

  That is all I have to say,

  Mr. Yongby-Bonghy-Bò!

  Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!”

  VIII.

  Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,

  Where the early pumpkins blow,

  To the calm and silent sea

  Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,

  Lay a large and lively Turtle.

  “You’re the Cove,” he said, “for me;

  On your back beyond the sea,

  Turtle, you shall carry me!”

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  IX.

  Through the silent-roaring ocean

  Did the Turtle swiftly go;

  Holding fast upon his shell

  Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  With a sad primaeval motion

  Towards the sunset isles of Boshen

  Still the Turtle bore him well.

  Holding fast upon his shell,

  “Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!”

  Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  X.

  From the Coast of Coromandel

  Did that Lady never go;

  On that heap of stones she mourns

  For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  On that Coast of Coromandel,

  In his jug without a handle

  Still she weeps, and daily moans;

  On that little heap of stones

  To her Dorking Hens she moans,

  For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,

  For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

  THE POBBLE WHO HAS NO TOES.

  I.

  The Pobble who has no toes

  Had once as many as we;

  When they said, “Some day you may lose them all;”

  He replied, “Fish fiddle de-dee!”

  And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink

  Lavender water tinged with pink;

  For she said, “The World in general knows

  There’s nothing so good for a Pobble’s toes!”

  II.

  The Pobble who has no toes,

  Swam acro
ss the Bristol Channel;

  But before he set out he wrapped his nose

  In a piece of scarlet flannel.

  For his Aunt Jobiska said, “No harm

  Can come to his toes if his nose is warm;

  And it’s perfectly known that a Pobble’s toes

  Are safe — provided he minds his nose.”

  III.

  The Pobble swam fast and well,

  And when boats or ships came near him,

  He tinkledy-binkledy-winkled a bell

  So that all the world could hear him.

  And all the Sailors and Admirals cried,

  When they saw him nearing the further side, —

  “He has gone to fish, for his Aunt Jobiska’s

  Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!”

  IV.

  But before he touched the shore, —

  The shore of the Bristol Channel,

  A sea-green Porpoise carried away

  His wrapper of scarlet flannel.

  And when he came to observe his feet,

  Formerly garnished with toes so neat,

  His face at once became forlorn

  On perceiving that all his toes were gone!

  V.

  And nobody ever knew,

  From that dark day to the present,

  Whoso had taken the Pobble’s toes,

  In a manner so far from pleasant.

  Whether the shrimps or crawfish gray,

  Or crafty Mermaids stole them away,

  Nobody knew; and nobody knows

  How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!

  VI.

  The Pobble who has no toes

  Was placed in a friendly Bark,

  And they rowed him back, and carried him up

  To his Aunt Jobiska’s Park.

  And she made him a feast, at his earnest wish,

  Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish;

  And she said, “It’s a fact the whole world knows,

  That Pobbles are happier without their toes.”

  THE NEW VESTMENTS.

  There lived an old man in the Kingdom of Tess,

  Who invented a purely original dress;

  And when it was perfectly made and complete,

  He opened the door and walked into the street.

  By way of a hat he’d a loaf of Brown Bread,

  In the middle of which he inserted his head;

  His Shirt was made up of no end of dead Mice,

  The warmth of whose skins was quite fluffy and nice;

  His Drawers were of Rabbit-skins, so were his Shoes;

  His Stockings were skins, but it is not known whose;

  His Waistcoat and Trowsers were made of Pork Chops;

  His Buttons were Jujubes and Chocolate Drops;

  His Coat was all Pancakes, with Jam for a border,

  And a girdle of Biscuits to keep it in order;

  And he wore over all, as a screen from bad weather,

  A Cloak of green Cabbage-leaves stitched all together.

  He had walked a short way, when he heard a great noise,

  Of all sorts of Beasticles, Birdlings, and Boys;

  And from every long street and dark lane in the town

  Beasts, Birdies, and Boys in a tumult rushed down.

  Two Cows and a Calf ate his Cabbage-leaf Cloak;

  Four Apes seized his Girdle, which vanished like smoke;

  Three Kids ate up half of his Pancaky Coat,

  And the tails were devour’d by an ancient He Goat;

  An army of Dogs in a twinkling tore up his

  Pork Waistcoat and Trowsers to give to their Puppies;

  And while they were growling, and mumbling the Chops,

  Ten Boys prigged the Jujubes and Chocolate Drops.

  He tried to run back to his house, but in vain,

  For scores of fat Pigs came again and again:

  They rushed out of stables and hovels and doors;

  They tore off his stockings, his shoes, and his drawers;

  And now from the housetops with screechings descend

  Striped, spotted, white, black, and gray Cats without end:

  They jumped on his shoulders and knocked off his hat,

  When Crows, Ducks, and Hens made a mincemeat of that;

  They speedily flew at his sleeves in a trice,

  And utterly tore up his Shirt of dead Mice;

  They swallowed the last of his Shirt with a squall, —

  Whereon he ran home with no clothes on at all.

  And he said to himself, as he bolted the door,

  “I will not wear a similar dress any more,

  Any more, any more, any more, never more!”

  MR. AND MRS. DISCOBBOLOS.

  I.

  Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos

  Climbed to the top of a wall.

  And they sate to watch the sunset sky,

  And to hear the Nupiter Piffkin cry,

  And the Biscuit Buffalo call.

  They took up a roll and some Camomile tea,

  And both were as happy as happy could be,

  Till Mrs. Discobbolos said, —

  “Oh! W! X! Y! Z!

  It has just come into my head,

  Suppose we should happen to fall!!!!!

  Darling Mr. Discobbolos!

  II.

  “Suppose we should fall down flumpetty,

  Just like pieces of stone,

  On to the thorns, or into the moat,

  What would become of your new green coat?

  And might you not break a bone?

  It never occurred to me before,

  That perhaps we shall never go down any more!”

  And Mrs. Discobbolos said,

  “Oh! W! X! Y! Z!

  What put it into your head

  To climb up this wall, my own

  Darling Mr. Discobbolos?”

  III.

  Mr. Discobbolos answered,

  “At first it gave me pain,

  And I felt my ears turn perfectly pink

  When your exclamation made me think

  We might never get down again!

  But now I believe it is wiser far

  To remain for ever just where we are.”

  And Mr. Discobbolos said,

  “Oh! W! X! Y! Z!

  It has just come into my head

  We shall never go down again,

  Dearest Mrs. Discobbolos!”

  IV.

  So Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos

  Stood up and began to sing, —

  “Far away from hurry and strife

  Here we will pass the rest of life,

  Ding a dong, ding dong, ding!

  We want no knives nor forks nor chairs,

  No tables nor carpets nor household cares;

  From worry of life we’ve fled;

  Oh! W! X! Y! Z!

  There is no more trouble ahead,

  Sorrow or any such thing,

  For Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos!”

  THE QUANGLE WANGLE’S HAT.

  I.

  On the top of the Crumpetty Tree

  The Quangle Wangle sat,

  But his face you could not see,

  On account of his Beaver Hat.

  For his Hat was a hundred and two feet wide,

  With ribbons and bibbons on every side,

  And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,

  So that nobody ever could see the face

  Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.

  II.

  The Quangle Wangle said

  To himself on the Crumpetty Tree,

  “Jam, and jelly, and bread

  Are the best of food for me!

  But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree

  The plainer than ever it seems to me

  That very few people come this way

  And that life on the whole is far from gay!”

  Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.

  III.

  But there came to the Crumpet
ty Tree

  Mr. and Mrs. Canary;

  And they said, “Did ever you see

  Any spot so charmingly airy?

  May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?

  Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!

  O please let us come and build a nest

  Of whatever material suits you best,

  Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!”

  IV.

  And besides, to the Crumpetty Tree

  Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;

  The Snail and the Bumble-Bee,

  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, —

  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, —

  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.

  THE CUMMERBUND.

  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!”