Mrs. Mulligatawny

Mrs. Mulligatawny said, "I'm sure it's going to rain."
Mr. Mulligatawny said, "To me it's very plain."
William Mulligatawny said, "It must rain, anyhow."
Mary Mulligatawny said, "I feel it raining now."
    And yet there were no clouds in sight, and 'twas a pleasant day,
    But Mrs. Mulligatawny always liked to have her way.
    With Mrs. Mulligatawny the family all agreed,
    For all the Mulligatawnys feared her very much indeed,
        And did, whenever they were bid,
        As Mrs. Mulligatawny did,
        And tried to think, as they were taught,
        As Mrs. Mulligatawny thought.

Mrs. Mulligatawny said, "Now two and two are three."
Mr. Mulligatawny said, "I'm sure they ought to be."
William Mulligatawny said, "Arithmetic is wrong."
Mary Mulligatawny said, "It's been so all along."
    Now two and two do not make three, and three they never were;
    But Mrs. Mulligatawny said 'twas near enough for her.
    With Mrs. Mulligatawny the family all agreed,
    For all the Mulligatawnys feared her very much indeed,
        And did, whenever they were bid,
        As Mrs. Mulligatawny did,
        And tried to think, as they were taught,
        As Mrs. Mulligatawny thought.

Mrs. Mulligatawny fell out of the world one day.
Mr. Mulligatawny said, "I don't know what to say."
William Mulligatawny said, "I don't know what to do."
Mary Mulligatawny said, "I feel the same as you."
    Mrs. Mulligatawny left the family sitting there.
    They couldn't think, they couldn't move, because they didn't dare;
    For Mrs. Mulligatawny had always thought for them,
    And all the Mulligatawnys thought the same as Mrs. M.,
            And did, whenever they were bid,
            As Mrs. Mulligatawny did,
            And tried to think, as they were taught,
            As Mrs. Mulligatawny thought.

Arthur Macy

Arthur Macy was an American poet known for his contributions during the 19th century. Born on June 6, 1842, he became widely recognized for his poignant and evocative verses, which often reflected themes of nature and human emotion. His poetry gained considerable respect and admiration during his lifetime. He passed away on June 1, 1904.

Arthur Macy

The Book Hunter

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Easy Knowledge

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

My Masterpiece

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

The Passing Of The Rose

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

English

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Wind And Rain

The rain came down on Boston Town,
    And the people said, "Oh, dear!
It's early yet for our annual wet, -
    'Twas dry this time last year."

In heavy suits and rubber boots
    They went to the weather man,
And said, "Dear friend, do you intend
    To change your present plan?"

In tones of scorn, he said, "Begone!
    I've ordered a week of rain.
Away! disperse! or I'll do worse,
    And order a hurricane!"

They sneered, "Oh, oh!" and they laughed, "Ho, ho!"
    And they said, "You surely jest.
Your threats are vain, for a hurricane
    Is the thing that we like best.

"Our throats are tinned, and a sharp east wind
    We really couldn't do without;
But we complain of too much rain,
    And we think we'd like a drought....

Arthur Macy

To My Friend Mrs. Lloyd

My very dear friend
Should never depend
Upon anything clever or witty,
From a poor country wight
When attempting to write,
To one in your far famous city.
Indeed I'm inclined,
To fear that you'll find
These lines heavy, and quite out of joint;
And now I declare,
It's no more than fair,
Should this prove a dull letter,
That you write me a better;
And something that's quite to the point.
This having premised
As at present advised,
I'll indulge in the thoughts that incline,
Not with curious eye
The dim future to spy,
But glance backward to "Auld Lang Syne."
If I recollect right,
It was a cold day quite,
And not far from night
When the Boarding School famous I entered.
Now what could I do?
Scarce above my own sho...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

The Rain.

I.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
    It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
    How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
    And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
    O the rain! the rain! the rain!



II.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
    And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
    And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
    Where the boat had snapt its chain -
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
    O the rain! the rain! the rain!



III.

The rain! the rain! the rain! -
    Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the...

James Whitcomb Riley

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...

Edward Lear

Uncle Jogalong

My dear old Uncle Jogalong
    Was very slow, was very slow,
And said he thought that folks were wrong
    To hurry so, to hurry so.

When he walked out upon the street
    To take the air, to take the air,
It seemed almost as if his feet
    Were fastened there, were fastened there.

He thought that traveling by rail
    Was hurrying and scurrying,
But said the slow and creeping snail
    Was just the thing, was just the thing.

He thought a hasty appetite
    An awful crime, an awful crime,
So never finished breakfast, quite,
    Till dinner time, till dinner time.

He said the world turned round so fast
    He could not stay, he could not stay,
And so he said "Good-by" at last,
    And went away, and went away.

Arthur Macy

Thomson Green And Harriet Hale

(To be sung to the Air of "An 'Orrible Tale.")

Oh list to this incredible tale
Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE;
Its truth in one remark you'll sum
"Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!"

Oh, THOMSON GREEN was an auctioneer,
And made three hundred pounds a year;
And HARRIET HALE, most strange to say,
Gave pianoforte lessons at a sovereign a day.

Oh, THOMSON GREEN, I may remark,
Met HARRIET HALE in Regent's Park,
Where he, in a casual kind of way,
Spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the day.

They met again, and strange, though true,
He courted her for a month or two,
Then to her pa he said, says he,
"Old man, I love your daughter and your daughter worships me!"

Their names were regularly banned,
The wedd...

William Schwenck Gilbert