“Despise! and why?” then asked the Old.
Such tasks are womanly, I’m told,
And always by our sex controlled.”
“Our sex controlled by them!” said she
Who so advanced seemed to be;
“But such low tasks won’t do for me.”
“Then tell me, pray, what can you do,
Of household drudgery in lieu,
That more becomes a woman true?”
“Do? I enter in man’s domain;
I type-write, lecture, deal in grain
And stocks, and exercise my brain
With politics and civic laws,
And I in these excel because
My energy can never pause,
My honor cannot be assailed,
And bribery has ever failed,
To tempt me. Ev’rywhere I’m hailed
As mistress of the universe!
My advent has removed the curse
From politics. I’m not averse
To taking in life’s game a deal,
To eating at the club my meal
Or riding straddle on my wheel.”
“Stop!” said the Old, with blushing face,
“Women like you would soon disgrace
Our age, our country and our race!
You speak of buffeting with life
As if you loved the horrid strife
More than the tender name of ‘wife’.
Where is your time for motherhood,
And housekeeping, and other good
And noble works that women should
Her privilege consider? Can
You for a moment think a man
Would love a woman who outran
Propriety in talk and dress;
Who never cared for a caress,
But urged her ‘new’ ideas with stress?”
“Love!” said with scorn of the other, I
The very name of love deny.
‘T is a delusion. Tell me why
Woman should ever prize a love
Which brands her ‘pet’ and ‘turtle-dove”,
Bestowed by man, who stands above
Her, as ‘lord of all creation’,
‘Lifts’ her to his ‘higher station’,
And thus seals her degradation?”
“Love,” said the Old one, thoughtfully,
“Is sweeter, dearer far to me
Than worldly strife could ever be.”
“Poor thing!” the woman New now sighed,
“To rouse your interest I’ve tried
In occupations dignified
And fit for woman’s higher sphere;
But you’re old fashioned, weak and queer,
And past redemption now, I fear.
And so, I’ll leave you to your fate,
Although I wish you’d emulate
My acts, and be regenerate.”
“Poor thing!” the other answered, low,
“It seems a shame that you must go
Through life and sweet Love never know!
I wish that I could make you feel
The difference ‘twixt false and real,
And our true sphere to you reveal.”
Each pitying he other’s plight
They passed from one another’s sight.
Now tell me--can you?--which was right?
Homo Sum
When the bum has siezed the whiskey
And the whiskey ‘s siezed the bum
There ‘s a glaze upon his eyeballs
And his legs are rather numb.
Quite uncertainly he lurches
As he reels the sidewalk down,
All unconscious of reproaches,
Muttered oaths, disgusted frown.
Void his mind, his vision blurred,
Only brutal intuition
Doth enable him to keep
Perpendicular position.
You congratulate yourself
By saying proudly “homo sum!”--
When the bum has siezed the whiskey
And the whiskey ‘s siezed the bum.
That New Leaf
LOOKING back with much contrition
On my former evil ways,
With the New Year came ambition
Virtuously to end my days.
So my habits quick reforming,
Flask and pipe were thrown aside,
And to nobler instincts warming,
Cards and dice were scattered wide.
On my lips each oath I stifled
As my collar-button strayed,
And when Nell my pockets rifled
I knelt down and calmly prayed.
And I bought a brand new diary
And upon its pages white
Aspirations grand and fiery
Neatly I inscribed each night.
Ah, how proud I walked the city,
Conscious of my purity,
And I felt how great the pity
Every man was not like me!
But, although the spirit’s willing
Human flesh is mighty weak,
And instead of quite fulfilling
The ambitions did I seek,
Scarce a week has now departed
And--I shame the truth to tell--
Yesterday I grew faint-hearted;
My resolves are paving hades!
Children’s Verse
Dan’l
WHEN Dan’l takes his fiddle down
And deftly tunes the strings
And rubs the rosin on his bow,
The sound around him brings
A score of village children,
Who know the fun begins
When Dan’l takes his fiddle down
And deftly tunes the strings.
When Dan’l takes the fiddle tuned
He plays a lively air,
Whereat his many listeners
Most solemnly declare
There ain’t a fiddler in the land
That with him can compare--
When Dan’l gets his fiddle tuned
And plays a lively air.
When Dan’l hangs his fiddle up
His list’ners feel aggrieved;
Regretful sighs betray how much
Of pleasure they ‘re bereaved.
Indeed, unless you’ve heard him play
You ‘d never have believed
When Dan’l hangs his fiddle up
How much the crowd is grieved!
The Tramp
THE tramp is coming up the road;
Tramp, tramp, tramp!
His coat is torn, his step is free,
He whistles very merrily,
His face is soiled--a sight to see!--
Tramp, tramp tramp!
Up the hill and down again;
Tramp, tramp, tramp!
By the meadow, through the lane;
Tramp, tramp, tramp!
Begs his food from door to door,
Eats between meals--eats before;
Sleep at night upon the floor--
Poor old tramp!
The Big Black Bear
NOW, once there came to our town a big black bear;
You could n’t find his equal if you hunted everywhere.
His eyes were very big and fierce, and shaggy was his hair,
And his teeth shone white and sharp between his jaws.
He stood upon his big rear legs, and people all did stare;
To keep a proper distance they took the greatest care,
For you had but to see him to make you well beware
Of getting near those dreadful, pointed claws.
He stood upon the sidewalk, did this big black bear,
Before Andrew McFarlan’s store, as if it were his lair;
And at the people passing by he wickedly did glare--
A fact which all the children did deplore.
But never once he left his post, in weather foul or fair,
And though this might surprise you, it won’t when
I declare
This awful brute was stuffed, and McFarlan put him there
To serve as a sign before his clothing store!
A Romance of a Broken Window
I
A LITTLE kit
On end did sit
To watch for mouse or sparrow;
A little boy
Played with a toy
Known as a bow and arrow.
II
Intent on game
Near puss he came
And slyly raised his weapon,
And drew the bow
And then let go,
And wondered what would happen.
III
The little cat
No longer sat
In dreamy contemplation--
The arrow sped
Straight for her head,
To her intense frustration.
IV
Roused from her dream
Puss gave a scream
And out of danger fled,
While through the glass
The stick did pass
And wounded that instead!
My Little Maid
I’M afraid
There’s a maid
Who’s set my heart a fluttering;
Her praise I ‘m alwaysuttering,
I can ‘t resist her charm.
She’s so pretty
It’s a pity
For I fear I can ‘t resist her,
And, indeed, last night I kissed her--
Never thinking any harm.
She ‘s a love
Far above
Other girls so ordinary,
And her dimpled hand is very
Nice to hold, as well I know;
And it best
Be confessed
In my arms I ‘ve often caught her,
For she ‘s Ward’s and Clara’s daughter
And was born three years ago.
Where Do They Go?
WHERE do the chickens go at night--
Heigh-ho! where do they go?
Under the breast of their mother they rest,
Finding her feathers a soft fluffy nest;
And there ‘s where the chicks go at night,
Heigh-ho!
Yes, there ‘s where the chicks go at night.
Where does the kitten go at night--
Heigh-ho! where does it go?
Under the stove in the kitchen it goes
And cuddles up warm for a sweet repose,
And there ‘s where our puss goes at night,
Heigh-ho!
Yes, there ‘s where our puss goes at night.
Where does our little dog go at night--
Heigh-ho! where does he go?
Why, papa has made him a nice little bed
In a snug little corner outside the shed,
And that ‘s where our dog goes at night,
Heigh-ho!
Yes, there ‘s where our dog goes at night.
Where does our baby boy go at night--
Heigh-ho! where does he go?
Into his little white cradle he goes
Bundled up warm from his chin to his toes;
And that’s where our boy goes at night,
Heigh-ho!
Yes, there ‘s where our boy goes at night.
The Greedy Gold-fish
WITHIN the sparkling water
Of a pretty crystal dish
There lived and swam together
Three tiny golden fish,
Whose lives were quite as happy
As any fish could wish.
No cat could ever harm them,
So high their mansion stood,
And mamma kept the water fresh
And gave them for their food
All of those little dainties
That fishes think so good.
Yet two were thin and delicate
While one was big and strong
Because he ate the fish that to
The others did belong
Before they could get at it--
‘T was surely very wrong!
The little fishes grumbled
At such a naughty trick,
And when the food was thrown them
They tried their share to pick,
But scarcely got a nibble,
The big one was so quick.
And so, one rainy morning,
When mamma was away
And Johnny wondered how he
Could pass away the day,
He stood beside the gold-fish
And watched them at their play.
He ‘d just been playing “doctor”
With mamma’s box of pills;
He ‘d saved the cook from fever,
He ‘d cured the nurse of pills;
And now he thought the fishes
Should be dosed for their ills.
“Dose tunnin’ ‘ittle fisses,”
He said, “seems awful bad!
An’ dis de bestest med’cin’
‘At mamma ever had.
I dess I’ll div’ ‘em one dose--
Dey look so very sad!”
So down in the water
He softly dropped a pill,
And that big, greedy gold-fish
With open mouth and gill,
Swallowed it, as if, indeed,
He were really ill.
But very soon this fish felt
An awful pain inside;
“This serves me right for eating
So greedily!” he cried.
Then he turned upon his back
And flopped his tail, and died!
The other little fishes
Since he has gone away
Now are growing big and fat
As in the dish they play,
For Johnny has n’t “doctored”
Since that one rainy day.
Who’s Afraid?
Who’s afraid?
EV’RY Giant now is dead--
Jack has cut off ev’ry head.
Ev’ry Goblin, known of old,
Perished years ago, I’m told.
Ev’ry Witch, on broomstick riding,
Has been burned or is in hiding.
Every Dragon, seeking gore,
Died an age ago--or more.
Ev’ry horrid Bogie Man
Lives in far-off Yucatan.
Burglars dare not venture near
When they know that papa’s here.
Lions now you only see
Caged in the menagerie.
And the Grizzly Bear can’t hug
When he’s made into a rug--
Who’s Afraid?
Young America
PAPA, tan I do to war
‘N’ have a lot of fun,
‘N’ wear a sodjer’s uniform
‘N’ make de Spanyids run?
My Uncle Hal says Spanyid mans
Is naughty mans, an’ so
I deas I’ll tut off all der heads--
Please, papa, tan I do?
I’s dot a sword--it’s awful bent
But you tan make it dood,
An’ den I’ll ride my rocking-horse,
Like any sodjer would.
I’s dot a drum, I’s dot a horn--
De drum has dot one head.
An’--papa, I is s’eepy now;
I dess I’ll do to bed!
FATHER GOOSE: HIS BOOK
Father Goose: His Book was L. Frank Baum’s first great success as an author. George M. Hill Company published it in 1899. The illustrator was W. W. Denslow, best known at that time as a poster artist. Baum and Denslow would go on to spectacular success with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz the following year. Baum’s first book of verse, By the Candelabra’s Glare, published in 1898, included a section of poetry for children and helped inspire the nonsense poetry of Father Goose: His Book. Released in plenty of time for the Christmas season, buyers snapped up the book and marveled over its lavish illustrations, unlike anything
in children’s literature up to that time. Authors Mark Twain and William Dean Howells praised Baum’s verse. After many lean years, Baum used his newly acquired wealth to build a lakeside cottage in Macatawa, Michigan, which he dubbed, “the Sign of the Goose.”
A first edition copy of Father Goose: His Book
CONTENTS
Father Goose
Why?
Did You Ever See a Rabbit?
To Walk Jim Jones
Clockwork Man
Tick Tock
This Bold Boy
There Was a Goose
Mister Jinks
Little Barelegs Runs
Who’s Afraid?
The Cats They Sit
A Sailor from China
If Johnny Had No Eye
Sally Dance
Old Mister Micklejohn
Baby Found a Feather
Jack Lantern
A Bumble Bee
Grandpa’s Head
Uncle Dick Gave Me a Dolly
Captain Bing
I Had a Dog
Little Tommy Toddlekin
Organ Grinder
Master Bunny
Mr. Green
Elephant
Kitty Klymer
Lee-Hi-Lung-Whan
Little Nigger Boy
John Harrison Hoy
Polly Wants a Cracker
Baby Pulled the Pussy’s Tail
Patsy Bedad
Caterpillar
Ding a Ling
Quite a Trick
Come Into Our Store
The Bandit
Miss Nancy Puts on Airs
The Bossie-Cow
Standing on the Sidewalk
A Man Last Tuesday
Goodness Me!
Civilized Boy
Babies’ Serenade
Dolly’s Run Away
Annie Waters
A Bee Flew Down
There Was a Whale
A Little Man
Buy a Goose
Miss Nancy Brown
Cootchie Cooloo
Here Is Paddy Geegan
Tim Jenkins Tried
Rough Riders
The Coogie Bird
The Ship Will Go
Donnegan
Chickens at Night
Cats Babies Have
Sun Bear Dances
The Soldier
Betsy Baker
One Old Cat!
Boy from Kalamazoo
Boy, A Tiny Mite
George Washington
Sammy Simpson
Seymour Credit
An early edition of Father Goose: His Book, with music added
Introduction.
THERE is a fascination in the combination of jingling verse and bright pictures that always appeals strongly to children. The ancient “Mother Goose Book” had these qualities, and for nearly two centuries the cadences of its rhymes have lingered in the memories of men and women who learned them in childhood.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 873