Part 2

There are lions and roaring tigers, and enormous camels and things, There are biffalo-buffalo-bisons, and a great big bear with wings, There’s a sort of a tiny potamus, and a tiny nosserus too— But _I_ gave buns to the elephant when _I_ went down to the Zoo!

There are badgers and bidgers and bodgers, and a Super-intendent’s House, There are masses of goats, and a Polar, and different kinds of mouse, And I think there’s a sort of a something which is called a wallaboo— But _I_ gave buns to the elephant when _I_ went down to the Zoo!

If you try to talk to the bison, he never quite understands; You can’t shake hands with a mingo—he doesn’t like shaking hands. And lions and roaring tigers _hate_ saying, “How do you do?”— But _I_ give buns to the elephant when _I_ go down to the Zoo!

[Illustration: Boy looking at bison]

[Illustration: Girl in high chair kicking off her shoe]

RICE PUDDING

_What_ is the matter with Mary Jane? She’s crying with all her might and main, And she won’t eat her dinner—rice pudding again— What _is_ the matter with Mary Jane?

[Illustration: Woman observing scattered toys]

_What_ is the matter with Mary Jane? I’ve promised her dolls and a daisy-chain, And a book about animals—all in vain— What _is_ the matter with Mary Jane?

[Illustration: Doctor looking at girl in bed]

_What_ is the matter with Mary Jane? She’s perfectly well, and she hasn’t a pain; But, look at her, now she’s beginning again!— What _is_ the matter with Mary Jane?

_What_ is the matter with Mary Jane? I’ve promised her sweets and a ride in the train, And I’ve begged her to stop for a bit and explain— What _is_ the matter with Mary Jane?

_What_ is the matter with Mary Jane? She’s perfectly well and she hasn’t a pain, _And it’s lovely rice pudding for dinner again!_— What _is_ the matter with Mary Jane?

[Illustration: Girl in high chair kicking off her shoe]

[Illustration: Mouse in hat; boy searching under table]

MISSING

_Has anybody seen my mouse?_

I opened his box for half a minute, Just to make sure he was really in it, And while I was looking, he jumped outside! I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried. . . . I think he’s somewhere about the house. Has _anyone_ seen my mouse?

[Illustration: Boy with empty box]

[Illustration: Boy with box standing in corner]

_Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?_

Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one, He came from the country, he wasn’t a town one, So he’ll feel all lonely in a London street; Why, what could he possibly find to eat?

[Illustration: Boy showing empty box to seated man]

[Illustration: Boy talking with woman knitting]

He must be somewhere. I’ll ask Aunt Rose: Have _you_ seen a mouse with a woffelly nose? Oh, somewhere about— He’s just got out. . . .

Hasn’t _anybody_ seen my mouse?

THE KING’S BREAKFAST

[Illustration: King and queen seated at table]

The King asked The Queen, and The Queen asked The Dairymaid: “Could we have some butter for The Royal slice of bread?” The Queen asked The Dairymaid, The Dairymaid Said, “Certainly, I’ll go and tell The cow Now Before she goes to bed.”

The Dairymaid She curtsied,

[Illustration: Woman curtseying]

And went and told The Alderney: “Don’t forget the butter for The Royal slice of bread.”

[Illustration: Woman with bucket speaking with recumbent cow]

The Alderney Said sleepily: “You’d better tell His Majesty That many people nowadays Like marmalade Instead.”

[Illustration: Woman with large jar of marmalade]

The Dairymaid Said, “Fancy!” And went to Her Majesty She curtsied to the Queen, and She turned a little red: “Excuse me, Your Majesty, For taking of The liberty, But marmalade is tasty, if It’s very Thickly Spread.”

The Queen said “Oh!” And went to His Majesty: “Talking of the butter for The Royal slice of bread, Many people Think that Marmalade Is nicer. Would you like to try a little Marmalade Instead?”

[Illustration: Queen]

The King said, “Bother!” And then he said, “Oh, deary me!” The King sobbed, “Oh, deary me!” And went back to bed. “Nobody,” He whimpered, “Could call me A fussy man; I _only_ want A little bit Of butter for My bread!”

[Illustration: King]

The Queen said, “There, there!” And went to The Dairymaid. The Dairymaid Said, “There, there!” And went to the shed. The cow said, “There, there! I didn’t really Mean it; Here’s milk for his porringer And butter for his bread.”

[Illustration: Woman and cow dancing]

The Queen took The butter And brought it to His Majesty; The King said, “Butter, eh?” And bounced out of bed. “Nobody,” he said, As he kissed her Tenderly, “Nobody,” he said, As he slid down The banisters, “Nobody, My darling, Could call me A fussy man—

BUT

“_I do like a little bit of butter to my bread!_”

[Illustration: King and queen dancing]

HOPPITY

Christopher Robin goes Hoppity, hoppity,

[Illustration: Boy hopping]

Hoppity, hoppity, hop. Whenever I tell him Politely to stop it, he Says he can’t possibly stop.

[Illustration: Boy hopping]

If he stopped hopping, he couldn’t go anywhere, Poor little Christopher Couldn’t go anywhere . . . That’s why he _always_ goes Hoppity, hoppity, Hoppity, Hoppity, Hop.

[Illustration: Boy hopping]

[Illustration: Toy soldiers with cake]

AT HOME

I want a soldier (A soldier in a busby), I want a soldier to come and play with me. I’d give him cream-cakes (Big ones, sugar ones), I’d give him cream-cakes and cream for his tea.

I want a soldier (A tall one, a red one), I want a soldier who plays on the drum. Daddy’s going to get one (He’s written to the shopman) Daddy’s going to get one as soon as he can come.

[Illustration: Toy soldiers, one face down in cake]

[Illustration: Boy on porch speaking to man in open doorway]

THE WRONG HOUSE

I went into a house, and it wasn’t a house, It has big steps and a great big hall; But it hasn’t got a garden, A garden, A garden, It isn’t like a house at all.

I went into a house, and it wasn’t a house, It has a big garden and great high wall; But it hasn’t got a may-tree, A may-tree, A may-tree, It isn’t like a house at all.

I went into a house and it wasn’t a house— Slow white petals from the may-tree fall; But it hasn’t got a blackbird, A blackbird, A blackbird, It isn’t like a house at all.

[Illustration: Blackbird carolling on branch]

I went into a house, and I thought it was a house, I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call. . . . But nobody listened to it, Nobody Liked it, Nobody wanted it at all.

[Illustration: Cows standing in stream]

SUMMER AFTERNOON

Six brown cows walk down to drink (_All the little fishes blew bubbles at the may-fly_). Splash goes the first as he comes to the brink, Swish go the tails of the five who follow. . . . Twelve brown cows bend drinking there (_All the little fishes went waggle-tail, waggle-tail_)— Six from the water and six from the air; Up and down the river darts a blue-black swallow.

[Illustration: Mouse with geraniums]

THE DORMOUSE AND THE DOCTOR

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red), And all the day long he’d a wonderful view Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

[Illustration: Doctor hurrying]

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said: “Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed. Just say ‘Ninety-nine,’ while I look at your chest. . . . Don’t you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?”

[Illustration: Doctor looking into garden bed]

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied (When he’d said “Ninety-nine”) that he’d tried and he’d tried, And much the most answering things that he knew Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head, And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said: “What the patient requires is a change,” and he went To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue), And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

[Illustration: Mouse]

[Illustration: Doctor hurrying with flowers]

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant, He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent. “Now _these_,” he remarked, “give a _much_ better view Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).”

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red), And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white). “And _now_,” said the Doctor, “we’ll _soon_ have you right.”

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh: “I suppose all these people know better than I. It was silly, perhaps, but I _did_ like the view Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).”

The Doctor came round and examined his chest, And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest, “How very effective,” he said, as he shook The thermometer, “all these chrysanthemums look!”

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white). “How lovely,” he thought, “to be back in a bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).”

[Illustration: Mouse with nurse]

The Doctor said, “Tut! It’s another attack!” And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back, And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car, And murmured, “How sweet your chrysanthemums are!”

[Illustration: Mouse being chauffeured]

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes, And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise: “I’ll _pretend_ the chrysanthemums turn to a bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!”

[Illustration: Doctor admiring chrysanthemums]

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands, And saying, “There’s nobody quite understands These cases as I do! The cure has begun! How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!”

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white, And all that he felt at the back of his head Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

[Illustration: Mouse curled up asleep]

_And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said) If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed, You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes._

[Illustration: Shoemakers]

SHOES AND STOCKINGS

There’s a cavern in the mountain where the old men meet (_Hammer, hammer, hammer . . . Hammer, hammer, hammer_ . . .) They make gold slippers for my lady’s feet (_Hammer, hammer, hammer . . . Hammer, hammer, hammer_ . . .) My lady is marrying her own true knight, White her gown, and her veil is white, But she must have slippers on her dainty feet. _Hammer, hammer hammer . . . Hammer_.

There’s a cottage by the river where the old wives meet (_Chatter, chatter, chatter . . . Chatter, chatter, chatter_ . . .)

[Illustration: Women spinning and sewing]

They weave gold stockings for my lady’s feet (_Chatter, chatter, chatter . . . Chatter, chatter, chatter_ . . .) My lady is going to her own true man, Youth to youth, since the world began, But she must have stockings on her dainty feet. _Chatter, chatter, chatter . . . Chatter_.

[Illustration: Fine lady]

[Illustration: Man and boy on beach]

SAND-BETWEEN-THE-TOES

I went down to the shouting sea, Taking Christopher down with me, For Nurse had given us sixpence each— And down we went to the beach.

We had sand in the eyes and the ears and the nose, And sand in the hair, and sand-between-the-toes. Whenever a good nor’ wester blows, Christopher is certain of Sand-between-the-toes.

The sea was galloping grey and white; Christopher clutched his sixpence tight; We clambered over the humping sand— And Christopher held my hand.

We had sand in the eyes and the ears and the nose, And sand in the hair, and sand-between-the-toes. Whenever a good nor’ wester blows, Christopher is certain of Sand-between-the-toes.

There was a roaring in the sky; The sea-gulls cried as they blew by; We tried to talk, but had to shout— Nobody else was out.

When we got home, we had sand in the hair, In the eyes and the ears and everywhere; Whenever a good nor’ wester blows, Christopher is found with Sand-between-the-toes.

[Illustration: Boy on beach]

[Illustration: Boy watching knight riding out of forest]

KNIGHTS AND LADIES

There is in my old picture-book A page at which I like to look, Where knights and squires come riding down The cobbles of some steep old town, And ladies from beneath the eaves Flutter their bravest handkerchiefs, Or, smiling proudly, toss down gages . . . But that was in the Middle Ages. It wouldn’t happen now; but still, Whenever I look up the hill Where, dark against the green and blue, The firs come marching, two by two, I wonder if perhaps I _might_ See suddenly a shining knight Winding his way from blue to green— Exactly as it would have been Those many, many years ago. . . .

[Illustration: Knight galloping]

Perhaps I might. You never know.

LITTLE BO-PEEP AND LITTLE BOY-BLUE

[Illustration: Toy sheep]

“What have you done with your sheep, Little Bo-Peep? What have you done with your sheep, Bo-Peep?” “Little Boy Blue, what fun! I’ve lost them, every one!” “Oh, what a thing to have done, Little Bo-Peep!”

“What have you done with your sheep, Little Boy Blue? What have you done with your sheep, Boy Blue?” “Little Bo-Peep, my sheep Went off, when I was asleep.” “I’m sorry about your sheep, Little Boy Blue.”

[Illustration: Girl with crook, boy sleeping on grass]

“What are you going to do, Little Bo-Peep? What are you going to do, Bo-Peep?” “Little Boy Blue, you’ll see They’ll all come home to tea.” “They wouldn’t do that for me, Little Bo-Peep.”

[Illustration: Girl with crook, boy blowing horn]

“What are you going to do, Little Boy Blue? What are you going to do, Boy Blue?” “Little Bo-Peep, I’ll blow My horn for an hour or so.” “Isn’t that rather slow, Little Boy Blue?”

[Illustration: Sheep gambolling]

“Whom are you going to marry, Little Bo-Peep? Whom are you going to marry, Bo-Peep?” “Little Boy Blue, Boy Blue, I’d like to marry you.” “I think I should like it too, Little Bo-Peep.”

[Illustration: Girl holding crook and sheep, boy scratching head]

“Where are we going to live, Little Boy Blue? Where are we going to live, Boy Blue?” “Little Bo-Peep, Bo-Peep, Up in the hills with the sheep.” “And you’ll love your little Bo-Peep, Little Boy Blue?”

“I’ll love you for ever and ever, Little Bo-Peep. I’ll love you for ever and ever, Bo-Peep.” “Little Boy Blue, my dear, Keep near, keep very near.” “I shall be always here, Little Bo-Peep.”

[Illustration: Boy kissing girl; sheep playing]

[Illustration: Swan reflected in water]

THE MIRROR

Between the woods the afternoon Is fallen in a golden swoon. The sun looks down from quiet skies To where a quiet water lies, And silent trees stoop down to trees. And there I saw a white swan make Another white swan in the lake; And, breast to breast, both motionless, They waited for the wind’s caress . . . And all the water was at ease.

[Illustration: Boy seated on stairs]

HALFWAY DOWN

Halfway down the stairs Is a stair Where I sit. There isn’t any Other stair Quite like It. I’m not at the bottom, I’m not at the top; So this is the stair Where I always Stop.

Halfway up the stairs Isn’t up, And isn’t down. It isn’t in the nursery, It isn’t in the town. And all sorts of funny thoughts Run round my head: “It isn’t really Anywhere! It’s somewhere else Instead!”

[Illustration: Cattle in field]

THE INVADERS

In careless patches through the wood The clumps of yellow primrose stood, And sheets of white anemones, Like driven snow against the trees, Had covered up the violet, But left the blue-bell bluer yet.

Along the narrow carpet ride, With primroses on either side, Between their shadows and the sun, The cows came slowly, one by one, Breathing the early morning air And leaving it still sweeter there. And, one by one, intent upon Their purposes, they followed on In ordered silence . . . and were gone.

But all the little wood was still, As if it waited so, until Some blackbird on an outpost yew, Watching the slow procession through, Lifted his yellow beak at last To whistle that the line had passed. . . . Then all the wood began to sing Its morning anthem to the spring.

[Illustration: Child hiding behind tree]

BEFORE TEA

Emmeline Has not been seen For more than a week. She slipped between The two tall trees at the end of the green . . . We all went after her. “_Emmeline!_”

“Emmeline, I didn’t mean— I only said that your hands weren’t clean.” We went to the trees at the end of the green . . . But Emmeline Was not to be seen.

Emmeline Came slipping between The two tall trees at the end of the green. We all ran up to her. “Emmeline! Where have you been? Where have you been? Why, it’s more than a week!” And Emmeline Said, “Sillies, I went and saw the Queen. She says my hands are _purfickly_ clean!”

[Illustration: Grubby girl holding out her hands]

TEDDY BEAR

A bear, however hard he tries, Grows tubby without exercise. Our Teddy Bear is short and fat Which is not to be wondered at; He gets what exercise he can By falling off the ottoman, But generally seems to lack The energy to clamber back.

[Illustration: Toys on bed, teddy bear on floor]

Now tubbiness is just the thing Which gets a fellow wondering; And Teddy worried lots about The fact that he was rather stout. He thought: “If only I were thin! But how does anyone begin?” He thought: “It really isn’t fair To grudge me exercise and air.”

For many weeks he pressed in vain His nose against the window-pane, And envied those who walked about Reducing their unwanted stout. None of the people he could see “Is quite” (he said) “as fat as me!” Then, with a still more moving sigh, “I mean” (he said) “as fat as I!”

[Illustration: Teddy bear looking in mirror]

Now Teddy, as was only right, Slept in the ottoman at night, And with him crowded in as well More animals than I can tell; Not only these, but books and things, Such as a kind relation brings— Old tales of “Once upon a time,” And history retold in rhyme.

One night it happened that he took A peep at an old picture-book, Wherein he came across by chance The picture of a King of France (A stoutish man) and, down below, These words: “King Louis So and So, Nicknamed ‘The Handsome!’” There he sat, _And_ (_think of it!_) _the man was fat!_

[Illustration: Teddy bear reading open book]

Our bear rejoiced like anything To read about this famous King, _Nicknamed “The Handsome.”_ There he sat, And certainly the man was fat. _Nicknamed “The Handsome.”_ Not a doubt The man was definitely stout. Why then, a bear (for all his tub) Might yet be named “The Handsome Cub!”

“Might yet be named.” Or did he mean That years ago he “might have been”? For now he felt a slight misgiving: “Is Louis So and So still living? Fashions in beauty have a way Of altering from day to day. Is ‘Handsome Louis’ with us yet? Unfortunately I forget.”

[Illustration: Teddy bear seated in window]

Next morning (nose to window-pane) The doubt occurred to him again. One question hammered in his head: “Is he alive or is he dead?” Thus, nose to pane, he pondered; but The lattice window, loosely shut, Swung open. With one startled “Oh!” Our Teddy disappeared below.

There happened to be passing by A plump man with a twinkling eye, Who, seeing Teddy in the street, Raised him politely to his feet, And murmured kindly in his ear Soft words of comfort and of cheer: “Well, well!” “Allow me!” “Not at all.” “Tut-tut! A very nasty fall.”

[Illustration: Teddy bear scratching head]

Our Teddy answered not a word; It’s doubtful if he even heard. Our bear could only look and look: The stout man in the picture-book! That “handsome” King—could this be he, This man of adiposity? “Impossible,” he thought. “But still, No harm in asking. Yes I will!”

“Are you,” he said, “by any chance His Majesty the King of France?” The other answered, “I am that,” Bowed stiffly, and removed his hat; Then said, “Excuse me,” with an air, “But is it Mr. Edward Bear?” And Teddy, bending very low, Replied politely, “Even so!”

[Illustration: Teddy bowing to man]

They stood beneath the window there, The King and Mr. Edward Bear, And, handsome, if a trifle fat, Talked carelessly of this and that . . . Then said His Majesty, “Well, well, I must get on,” and rang the bell. “Your bear, I think,” he smiled. “Good-day!” And turned, and went upon his way.

A bear, however hard he tries, Grows tubby without exercise. Our Teddy Bear is short and fat, Which is not to be wondered at. But do you think it worries him To know that he is far from slim? No, just the other way about— He’s _proud_ of being short and stout.

[Illustration: Teddy bear peering at newspaper]

BAD SIR BRIAN BOTANY

[Illustration: Man in armour, with battleaxe]

Sir Brian had a battleaxe with great big knobs on; He went among the villagers and blipped them on the head. On Wednesday and on Saturday, but mostly on the latter day, He called at all the cottages, and this is what he said:

“I am Sir Brian!” (_ting-ling_) “I am Sir Brian!” (_rat-tat_) “I am Sir Brian, as bold as a lion— Take _that!_—and _that!_—and _that!_”

Sir Brian had a pair of boots with great big spurs on, A fighting pair of which he was particularly fond. On Tuesday and on Friday, just to make the street look tidy, He’d collect the passing villagers and kick them in the pond.

“I am Sir Brian!” (_sper-lash_) “I am Sir Brian!” (_sper-losh!_) “I am Sir Brian, as bold as a lion— Is anyone else for a wash?”

[Illustration: Man wielding battleaxe]

[Illustration: Man in bed]

Sir Brian woke one morning, and he couldn’t find his battleaxe; He walked into the village in his second pair of boots. He had gone a hundred paces, when the street was full of faces, And the villagers were round him with ironical salutes.

“You are Sir Brian? Indeed! You are Sir Brian? Dear, dear! You are Sir Brian, as bold as a lion? Delighted to meet you here!”

[Illustration: Man in duck pond]

Sir Brian went a journey, and he found a lot of duckweed; They pulled him out and dried him, and they blipped him on the head. They took him by the breeches, and they hurled him into ditches, And they pushed him under waterfalls, and this is what they said:

“You are Sir Brian—don’t laugh, You are Sir Brian—don’t cry; You are Sir Brian, as bold as a lion— Sir Brian, the lion, good-bye!”

Sir Brian struggled home again, and chopped up his battleaxe, Sir Brian took his fighting boots, and threw them in the fire. He is quite a different person now he hasn’t got his spurs on, And he goes about the village as B. Botany, Esquire.