Some Geese.

EV-ER-Y child who has the use
Of his sen-ses knows a goose.
See them un-der-neath the tree
Gath-er round the goose-girl's knee,
While she reads them by the hour
From the works of Scho-pen-hau-er.
How pa-tient-ly the geese at-tend!
But do they re-al-ly com-pre-hend
What Scho-pen-hau-er's driv-ing at?
Oh, not at all; but what of that?
Nei-ther do I; nei-ther does she;
And, for that mat-ter, nor does he.

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

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Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

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Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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The Goose

Here is a tale for spinsters at their sewing:
There was a goose, a little gosling surely,
Who went her goose-girl way and looked demurely
As every goose should when 'tis wise and knowing.
Proper was she as every gosling should be,
And innocent as Margarete or Gretchen,
And did her duty in the house and kitchen,
And like a goose was happy as she could be.
Smug was she with a sleek and dove-like dimple,
Great gooseberry eyes and cheeks out of the dairy:
A goose, aye, just a goose, a little dumb thing.
One day the goose was gone. The tale is simple.
She had eloped. 'Twas nothing ordinary.
A married man with children. That was something.

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The Unusual Goose And The Imbecilic Woodcutter

A woodcutter bought him a gander,
Or at least that was what he supposed,
As a matter of fact, 'twas a slander
As a later occurrence disclosed;
For they locked the bird up in the garret
To fatten, the while it grew old,
And it laid there a twenty-two carat
Fine egg of the purest of gold!

There was much unaffected rejoicing
In the home of the woodcutter then,
And his wife, her exuberance voicing,
Proclaimed him most lucky of men.
"'Tis an omen of fortune, this gold egg,"
She said, "and of practical use,
For this fowl doesn't lay any old egg,
She's a highly superior goose."

Twas this creature's habitual custom,
This laying of superfine eggs,
And they made it their practice to dust 'em
And pack them by dozens in kegs:
But the woodcu...

Guy Wetmore Carryl

Upon Gander. Epig.

Since Gander did his pretty youngling wed,
Gander, they say, doth each night piss a-bed:
What is the cause? Why, Gander will reply,
No goose lays good eggs that is trodden dry.

Robert Herrick

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLXXV. Paradoxes.

    My true love lives far from me,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.
    Many a rich present he sends to me,
            Petrum, Partrum, Paradise, Temporie,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.

    He sent me a goose, without a bone;
    He sent me a cherry, without a stone.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    He sent me a Bible, no man could read;
    He sent me a blanket, without a thread.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a goose without a bone?
    How could there be a cherry without a stone?
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a Bible no man could read?
    How could there be a bla...

Unknown

The Goose

I knew an old wife lean and poor,
Her rags scarce held together;
There strode a stranger to the door,
And it was windy weather.

He held a goose upon his arm,
He utterd rhyme and reason:
Here, take the goose, and keep you warm
It is a stormy season.

She caught the white goose by the leg,
A goosetwas no great matter.
The goose let fall a golden egg
With cackle and with clatter.

She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf,
And ran to tell her neighbors,
And blessd herself, and cursed herself,
And rested from her labors;

And feeding high, and living soft,
Grew plump and able-bodied,
Until the grave churchwarden doffd,
The parson smirkd and nodded.

So sitting, served by man and maid,
She felt her heart gro...

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Nursery Rhyme. LXIII. Tales.

    Old Mother Goose, when
    She wanted to wander,
    Would ride through the air
    On a very fine gander.

    Mother Goose had a house,
    'Twas built in a wood,
    Where an owl at the door
    For sentinel stood.

    This is her son Jack,
    A plain-looking lad,
    He is not very good,
    Nor yet very bad.

    She sent him to market,
    A live goose he bought,
    Here, mother, says he,
    It will not go for nought.

    Jack's goose and her gander,
    Grew very fond;
    They'd both eat together,
    Or swim in one pond.

    Jack found one morning,
    As I have been told,
    His goose had laid him
    An egg of pure gold.

    Jack rode to his mother,
    The news f...

Unknown