A Session With Uncle Sidney - IV - And Makes Nursery Rhymes - 4 "It"

A daring prince, of the realm Rangg Dhune,
Once went up in a big balloon

That caught and stuck on the horns of the moon,
And he hung up there till next day noon -
When all at once he exclaimed, "Hoot-toot!"
And then came down in his parachute.

O here's a little rhyme for the Spring- or Summer-time -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho! -
Just a little bit o' tune you can twitter, May or June,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a song that soars and sings,
As the birds that twang their wings
Or the katydids and things
    Thus and so, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

It's a song just broken loose, with no reason or excuse -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
You can sing along with it - or it matters not a bit -
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!
It's a lovely little thing
That 'most any one could sing
With a ringle-dingle-ding,
    Soft and low, don't you know,
    An a-ho-winky-tooden-an-a-ho!

Miss Medairy Dory-Ann
Cast her line and caught a man,


But when he looked so pleased, alack!
She unhooked and plunked him back. -
"I never like to catch what I can,"
Said Miss Medairy Dory-Ann.

[Voice from behind high board-fence.]



"Where's the crowd that dares to go
Where I dare to lead? - you know!"



"Well, here's one!"
Shouts Ezry Dunn.



"Count me two!"
Yells Cootsy Drew.



"Here's yer three!"
Sings Babe Magee.



"Score me four!"
Roars Leech-hole Moore.



"Tally - five!"
Howls Jamesy Clive.



"I make six!"
Chirps Herbert Dix.



"Punctchul! - seven!"
Pipes Runt Replevin.



"Mark me eight!"
Grunts Mealbag Nate.



"I'm yet nine!"
Growls "Lud'rick" Stein.



"Hi! here's ten!"...

Uncle he says 'at 'way down in the sea
Ever'thing's ist like it used to be: -
He says they's mermaids, an' mermens, too,
An' little merchildern, like me an' you -
Little merboys, with tops an' balls,
An' little mergirls, with little merdolls.

Uncle Sidney's vurry proud
    Of little Leslie-Janey,
'Cause she's so smart, an' goes to school
    Clean 'way in Pennsylvany!


She print' an' sent a postul-card
    To Uncle Sidney, telling
How glad he'll be to hear that she
    "Toock the onners in Speling."

Uncle he learns us to rhyme an' write
An' all be poets an' all recite:
His little-est poet's his little-est niece,
An' this is her little-est poetry-piece.

Our dog Fred
Et the bread.



Our dog Dash
Et the hash.



Our dog Pete
Et the meat.



Our dog Davy
Et the gravy.



Our dog Toffy
Et the coffee.



Our dog Jake
Et the cake.



Our dog Trip
Et the dip.

And - the worst,
From the first, -



Our dog Fido
Et the pie-dough.