Speak Roughly to Your Little Boy
Speak Roughly to Your Little Boy
And with that she
began nursing her child again, singing a sort of
lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent
shake at the end of every line:
"Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes;
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases."CHORUS
(in which the cook and the baby joined): "
Wow! wow! wow!"While the Duchess
sang the second verse of
the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up
and down, and the poor little thing howled so,
that Alice could hardly hear the words:
"I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!" CHORUS"Wow! wow! wow!"
She's All My Fancy Painted Him
She's All My Fancy Painted Him
She's all my fancy painted him
(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most?
He said that you had been to her,
And seen me here before;
But, in another character,
She was the same of yore.
There was not one that spoke to us,
Of all that thronged the street:
So he sadly got into a 'bus,
And pattered with his feet.
They sent him word I had not gone
(We know it to be true);
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
They gave her one, the gave me two,
They gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
It seemed to me that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle, that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.
Punctuality
Punctuality
Man Naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done to late.
Let ever hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.
And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that "there" may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.
If dinner at "halfpast"
be placed,
At "halfpast"
then be dressed.
If at a "quarterpast"
make haste
To be down with the rest
Better to be before you time,
Than e're to be behind;
To open the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.
Moral:
Let punctuality and care
Seize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower
Preface to Hunting of the Snark
Preface to Hunting of the Snark
PREFACE
Ifand
the thing is wildly possiblethe
charge of writing
nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but
instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line
``Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes''
In view of this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal
indignantly to my other writings as a proof that I am incapable of
such a deed: I will not (as I might) point to the strong moral
purpose of this poem itself, to the arithmetical principles so
cautiously inculcated in it, or to its noble teachings in Natural
HistoryI
will take the more prosaic course of simply explaining
how it happened.
The Bellman, who was almost morbidly sensitive about appearances,
used to have the bowsprit unshipped once or twice a week to be
revarnished, and it more than once happened, when the time came for
replacing it, that no one on board could remember which end of the
ship it belonged to. They knew it was not of the slightest use to
appeal to the Bellman about ithe
would only refer to his Naval
Code, and read out in pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which
none of them had ever been able to understandso
it generally ended
in its being fastened on, anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman
used to stand by with tears in his eyes: he knew it was all wrong,
but alas! Rule 42 of the Code, ``No one shall speak to the Man at the
Helm'', had been completed by the Bellman himself with the words
``and the Man at the Helm shall speak to no one''. So remonstrance
was impossible, and no steering could be done till the next
varnishing day. During these bewildering intervals the ship usually
sailed backwards.
This office was usually undertaken by the Boots, who found in it
a refuge from the Baker's constant complaints about the insufficient
blacking of his three pairs of boots.
As this poem is to some extent connected with the lay of the
Jabberwock, let me take this opportunity of answering a question that
has often been asked me, how to pronounce ``slithy toves''. The
``i'' in ``slithy'' is long, as in ``writhe''; and ``toves'' is
pronounced so as to rhyme with ``groves''. Again, the first ``o'' in
``borogoves'' is pronounced like the ``o'' in ``borrow''. I have
heard people try to give it the sound of the ``o'' in ``worry''.
Such is Human Perversity.
This also seems a fitting occasion to notice the other hard words in
that poem. HumptyDumpty's
theory, of two meanings packed into one
word like a portmanteau, seems to me the right explanation for all.
For instance, take the two words ``fuming'' and ``furious''. Make up
your mind that you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which
you will say first. Now open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts
incline ever so little towards ``fuming'', you will say
``fumingfurious'';
if they turn, by even a hair's breadth, towards
``furious'', you will say ``furiousfuming'';
but if you have that
rarest of gifts, a perfectly balanced mind, you will say
``frumious''.
Supposing that, when Pistol uttered the wellknown
words
``Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!''
Justice Shallow had felt certain that it was either William or
Richard, but had not been able to settle which, so that he could not
possibly say either name before the other, can it be doubted that,
rather than die, he would have gasped out ``Rilchiam!''.
'Lewis Carroll'
Photography Extraordinary
Photography Extraordinary
The MilkandWater
School
Alas! she would not hear my prayer!
Yet it were rash to tear my hair;
Disfigured, I should be less fair.
She was unwise, I may say blind;
Once she was lovingly inclined;
Some circumstance has changed her mind.
The StrongMinded
or MatterofFact
School
Well! so my offer was no go!
She might do worse, I told her so;
She was a fool to answer "No".
However, things are as they stood;
Nor would I have her if I could,
For there are plenty more as good.
The Spasmodic or German School
Firebrands and Daggers! hope hath fled!
To atoms dash the doubly dead!
My brain is firemy
heart is lead!
Her soul is flint, and what am I?
Scorch'd by her fierce, relentless eye,
Nothingness is my destiny!
Phantasmagoria CANTO VI ( Dyscomfyture )
Phantasmagoria CANTO VI ( Dyscomfyture )
As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:
Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky
Wherein he hopes to rest:
Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:
Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track.
And, entering with unsteady pace,
Receives a buffet in the face
That lands him on his back:
And feels himself, like one in sleep,
Glide swiftly down again,
A helpless weight, from steep to steep,
Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,
He drops upon the plain
So I, that had resolved to bring
Conviction to a ghost,
And found it quite a different thing
From any human arguing,
Yet dared not quit my post
But, keeping still the end in view
To which I hoped to come,
I strove to prove the matter true
By putting everything I knew
Into an axiom:
Commencing every single phrase
With 'therefore' or 'because,'
I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,
About the syllogistic maze,
Unconscious where I was.
Quoth he "That's regular claptrap:
Don't bluster any more.
Now DO be cool and take a nap!
Such a ridiculous old chap
Was never seen before!
"You're like a man I used to meet,
Who got one day so furious
In arguing, the simple heat
Scorched both his slippers off his feet!"
I said "THAT'S VERY CURIOUS!"
"Well, it IS curious, I agree,
And sounds perhaps like fibs:
But still it's true as true can be As
sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.
I said "My name's NOT Tibbs."
"NOT Tibbs!" he cried his
tone became
A shade or two less hearty "
Why, no," said I. "My proper name
Is Tibbets "
"Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."
"Why, then YOU'RE NOT THE PARTY!"
With that he struck the board a blow
That shivered half the glasses.
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three quarters of an hour ago,
You prince of all the asses?
"To walk four miles through mud and rain,
To spend the night in smoking,
And then to find that it's in vain And
I've to do it all again It's
really TOO provoking!
"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
To mutter some excuse.
"Who can have patience with a man
That's got no more discretion than
An idiotic goose?
"To keep me waiting here, instead
Of telling me at once
That this was not the house!" he said.
"There, that'll do be
off to bed!
Don't gape like that, you dunce!"
"It's very fine to throw the blame
On ME in such a fashion!
Why didn't you enquire my name
The very minute that you came?"
I answered in a passion.
"Of course it worries you a bit
To come so far on foot
But how was I to blame for it?"
"Well, well!" said he. "I must admit
That isn't badly put.
"And certainly you've given me
The best of wine and victual Excuse
my violence," said he,
"But accidents like this, you see,
They put one out a little.
"'Twas MY fault after all, I find Shake
hands, old Turniptop!"
The name was hardly to my mind,
But, as no doubt he meant it kind,
I let the matter drop.
"Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!
When I am gone, perhaps
They'll send you some inferior Sprite,
Who'll keep you in a constant fright
And spoil your soundest naps.
"Tell him you'll stand no sort of trick;
Then, if he leers and chuckles,
You just be handy with a stick
(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick)
And rap him on the knuckles!
"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be chuckling to another tune And
so you'd best take care!'
"That's the right way to cure a Sprite
Of such like goingson
But
gracious me! It's getting light!
Goodnight,
old Turniptop,
goodnight!"
A nod, and he was gone.
Phantasmagoria CANTO IV ( Hys Nouryture )
Phantasmagoria CANTO IV ( Hys Nouryture )
"OH, when I was a little Ghost,
A merry time had we!
Each seated on his favourite post,
We chumped and chawed the buttered toast
They gave us for our tea."
"That story is in print!" I cried.
"Don't say it's not, because
It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!"
(The Ghost uneasily replied
He hardly thought it was).
"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet
I almost think it is '
Three little Ghosteses' were set
'On posteses,' you know, and ate
Their 'buttered toasteses.'
"I have the book; so if you doubt it "
I turned to search the shelf.
"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it:
I now remember all about it;
I wrote the thing myself.
"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or
At least my agent said it did:
Some literary swell, who saw
It, thought it seemed adapted for
The Magazine he edited.
"My father was a Brownie, Sir;
My mother was a Fairy.
The notion had occurred to her,
The children would be happier,
If they were taught to vary.
"The notion soon became a craze;
And, when it once began, she
Brought us all out in different ways One
was a Pixy, two were Fays,
Another was a Banshee;
"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school
And gave a lot of trouble;
Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul,
And then two Trolls (which broke the rule),
A Goblin, and a Double
"(If that's a snuffbox
on the shelf,"
He added with a yawn,
"I'll take a pinch) next
came an Elf,
And then a Phantom (that's myself),
And last, a Leprechaun.
"One day, some Spectres chanced to call,
Dressed in the usual white:
I stood and watched them in the hall,
And couldn't make them out at all,
They seemed so strange a sight.
"I wondered what on earth they were,
That looked all head and sack;
But Mother told me not to stare,
And then she twitched me by the hair,
And punched me in the back.
"Since then I've often wished that I
Had been a Spectre born.
But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh.)
"THEY are the ghostnobility,
And look on US with scorn.
"My phantomlife
was soon begun:
When I was barely six,
I went out with an older one And
just at first I thought it fun,
And learned a lot of tricks.
"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers Wherever
I was sent:
I've often sat and howled for hours,
Drenched to the skin with driving showers,
Upon a battlement.
"It's quite oldfashioned
now to groan
When you begin to speak:
This is the newest thing in tone "
And here (it chilled me to the bone)
He gave an AWFUL squeak.
"Perhaps," he added, "to YOUR ear
That sounds an easy thing?
Try it yourself, my little dear!
It took ME something like a year,
With constant practising.
"And when you've learned to squeak, my man,
And caught the double sob,
You're pretty much where you began:
Just try and gibber if you can!
That's something LIKE a job!
"I'VE tried it, and can only say
I'm sure you couldn't do it, e
ven if you practised night and day,
Unless you have a turn that way,
And natural ingenuity.
"Shakspeare I think it is who treats
Of Ghosts, in days of old,
Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,'
Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets They
must have found it cold.
"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff,
In dressing as a Double;
But, though it answers as a puff,
It never has effect enough
To make it worth the trouble.
"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst
I had for being funny.
The settingup
is always worst:
Such heaps of things you want at first,
One must be made of money!
"For instance, take a Haunted Tower,
With skull, crossbones,
and sheet;
Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour,
Condensing lens of extra power,
And set of chains complete:
"What with the things you have to hire The
fitting on the robe And
testing all the coloured fire The
outfit of itself would tire
The patience of a Job!
"And then they're so fastidious,
The HauntedHouse
Committee:
I've often known them make a fuss
Because a Ghost was French, or Russ,
Or even from the City!
"Some dialects are objected to For
one, the IRISH brogue is:
And then, for all you have to do,
One pound a week they offer you,
And find yourself in Bogies!
My Fancy
My Fancy
I painted her a gushing thing,
With years about a score;
I little thought to find they were
A least a dozen more;
My fancy gave her eyes of blue,
A curly auburn head:
I came to find the blue a green,
The auburn turned to red.
She boxed my ears this morning,
They tingled very much;
I own that I could wish her
A somewhat lighter touch;
And if you ask me how
Her charms might be improved,
I would not have them added to,
But just a few removed!
She has the bear's ethereal grace,
The bland hyaena's laugh,
The footstep of the elephant,
The neck of a giraffe;
I love her still, believe me,
Though my heart its passion hides;
"She's all my fancy painted her,"
But oh! how much besides!
Phantasmagoria CANTO II ( Hys Fyve Rules )
Phantasmagoria CANTO II ( Hys Fyve Rules )
"MY First but
don't suppose," he said,
"I'm setting you a riddle Is
if
your Victim be in bed,
Don't touch the curtains at his head,
But take them in the middle,
"And wave them slowly in and out,
While drawing them asunder;
And in a minute's time, no doubt,
He'll raise his head and look about
With eyes of wrath and wonder.
"And here you must on no pretence
Make the first observation.
Wait for the Victim to commence:
No Ghost of any common sense
Begins a conversation.
"If he should say 'HOW CAME YOU HERE?'
(The way that YOU began, Sir,)
In such a case your course is clear '
ON THE BAT'S BACK, MY LITTLE DEAR!'
Is the appropriate answer.
"If after this he says no more,
You'd best perhaps curtail your
Exertions go
and shake the door,
And then, if he begins to snore,
You'll know the thing's a failure.
"By day, if he should be alone At
home or on a walk You
merely give a hollow groan,
To indicate the kind of tone
In which you mean to talk.
"But if you find him with his friends,
The thing is rather harder.
In such a case success depends
On picking up some candleends,
Or butter, in the larder.
"With this you make a kind of slide
(It answers best with suet),
On which you must contrive to glide,
And swing yourself from side to side One
soon learns how to do it.
"The Second tells us what is right
In ceremonious calls:'
FIRST BURN A BLUE OR CRIMSON LIGHT'
(A thing I quite forgot tonight),
'THEN SCRATCH THE DOOR OR WALLS.'"
I said "You'll visit HERE no more,
If you attempt the Guy.
I'll have no bonfires on MY floor And,
as for scratching at the door,
I'd like to see you try!"
"The Third was written to protect
The interests of the Victim,
And tells us, as I recollect,
TO TREAT HIM WITH A GRAVE RESPECT,
AND NOT TO CONTRADICT HIM."
"That's plain," said I, "as Tare and Tret,
To any comprehension:
I only wish SOME Ghosts I've met
Would not so CONSTANTLY forget
The maxim that you mention!"
"Perhaps," he said, "YOU first transgressed
The laws of hospitality:
All Ghosts instinctively detest
The Man that fails to treat his guest
With proper cordiality.
"If you address a Ghost as 'Thing!'
Or strike him with a hatchet,
He is permitted by the King
To drop all FORMAL parleying And
then you're SURE to catch it!
"The Fourth prohibits trespassing
Where other Ghosts are quartered:
And those convicted of the thing
(Unless when pardoned by the King)
Must instantly be slaughtered.
"That simply means 'be cut up small':
Ghosts soon unite anew.
The process scarcely hurts at all Not
more than when YOU're what you call
'Cut up' by a Review.
"The Fifth is one you may prefer
That I should quote entire:THE
KING MUST BE ADDRESSED AS 'SIR.'
THIS, FROM A SIMPLE COURTIER,
IS ALL THE LAWS REQUIRE:
"BUT, SHOULD YOU WISH TO DO THE THING
WITH OUTANDOUT
POLITENESS,
ACCOST HIM AS 'MY GOBLIN KING!
AND ALWAYS USE, IN ANSWERING,
THE PHRASE 'YOUR ROYAL WHITENESS!'
"I'm getting rather hoarse, I fear,
After so much reciting :
So, if you don't object, my dear,
We'll try a glass of bitter beer I
think it looks inviting."
Little Birds
Little Birds
Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters I've
a Tale to tell.
Little Birds are feeding
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham:
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters That
is what I am.
Little Birds are teaching
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle Mouth
a semicircle,
That's the proper style!
Little Birds are sleeping
All among the pins,
Where the loser wins:
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases So
the Tale begins.
Little Birds are writing
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted Letterpress,
when toasted,
Loses its good looks.
Little Birds are playing
Bagpipes on the shore,
Where the tourists snore:
"Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling!
Take, oh take this shilling!
Let us have no more!"
Little Birds are bathing
Crocodiles in cream,
Like a happy dream:
Like, but not so lasting Crocodiles,
when fasting,
Are not all they seem!
Little Birds are choking
Baronets with bun,
Taught to fire a gun:
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter Merely
for the fun.
Little Birds are hiding
Crimes in carpetbags,
Blessed by happy stags:
Blessed, I say, though beaten Since
our friends are eaten
When the memory flags.
Little Birds are tasting
Gratitude and gold,
Pale with sudden cold:
Pale, I say, and wrinkled When
the bells have tinkled,
And the Tale is told.
