1 ^l-^D i //^jingle4n AND ]f jangle/ >=- -A VV. S. LORD 0'->. ^ COPY; Qass. caaa Book ii5fa y JINGLE AND JANGLE AND OTHER VERSES Jingle and Jangle AND OTHER VERSES FOR AND ABOUT CHILDREN BY / WILLIAM S. LORD Author of "Blue and Gold" Chicago : New York : Toronto Fleming H. Revell Company 1899 25253 COPYRIGHT 1898 WSf S. LORD TWO COPIES nEC'i\fEO. FEB -81399 \\/b^v CL acL CONTENTS PAGE Dedication — Little Mother-Two-Times . 5 Jingle and Jangle 11 The Naughty Boy 13 Thanksgiving 15 The Penny 17 The Box of Sand 20 The Crow 22 Three ........ 24 The Song of the Clock 26 Hooray for Christmas .... 28 Rowland's View 30 A First Valentine 31 The Orb of Day and Dorothy ... 33 Strawberries 34 Dream and Snowflake 36 Bed-Time 38 A Four- Year-Old 39 In Fairyland 41 Waiting for Snow 43 A Little Shaver 45 When it Rains 46 The Wonderful Jar 48 Martha Going Fishing 51 Martha's Cookies 53 In Memoriam — E. F. 55 LITTLE MOTHER-TWO-TIMES Little Mother- Two- Times ^ heres a song for you ^ Bravest little woman, sister mine! There s a verse for Wilson, one for Katharine, too, (My! I think a daughter s pretty fine! ) Here Fm sitting t /linking of tJie days gone by When you wore a pinafore and ''braids''; How I used to tease you, how you used to cry — Not a far tiling then cared I for maids. 6 LITTLE MOTHER-TWO-TIMES Little Mother - Two - Times, what a breathless race Time is running! running! — where are we? Such a little while ago something in your face Changed, and lo! no longer you were free. Love tJien came and claimed you. You were glad to go. AsJien skies all S2iddenly were blue. Such a cup of happiness as mortals seldom know TJien beagn to pour its gifts for you. Little Mother- Two- Times, the best, most precious gift Of God, is that of motherhood divine; LITTLE MOTHER-TWO-TIMES 7 Clouds of pain and suffering it has the powr to lift, And oh! the glory of it! see it shine! Oh, tlie little children ! tJieir small impotent hands, Their lielplessness, their need of tender love! Yet tJiey hold us stronger than the strengtJi of iron bands And make the Jiome on earth like that above. JINGLE AND JANGLE Jingle and Jangle are two little bells That jingle and jangle all day; And Jingle rings sweet, with an accent that tells Of lightsomeness, promise, and May; Sunshine and sugar and honey and bees. Rainbows and butterflies' wings, Bird-songs and brook-songs and wide- spreading trees — Of joy little Jingle-bell sings! Jingle and Jangle are two Httle bells That jingle and jangle all day; 12 JINGLE AND JANGLE And Jangle rings harsh, with an accent that tells Of darkness, foreboding, dismay; Storm-cloud and vinegar, wormwood and gall, Toads' tongues and poisonous things, Owlets and ravens, and dreams that appall — Of woe little Jangle-bell rings! Yes, Jingle and Jangle are two little bells That jingle and jangle all day; And the one that you listen to strangely compels Behavior that's sure to betray. So listen to Jingle and be a good boy — To Jangle, oh, never give ear, And your days will be merry and bubble with joy, While sadness will never come near. THE NAUGHTY BOY Once I was naughty — ran away To see what I could see; It was a horrid poky day — My mother punished me. She didn't whip me — wisht she had, So hard she left a mark! She shut me up for being bad. The room was big and dark. It was so dark I thought I saw Strange creatures' awful eyes, And I was scared and couldn't draw My breath for screams and cries. 13 14 THE NAUGHTY BOY I wisht something would gobble me, And so I didn't stir; Then I'd be gone, and mother, she — Guess that would punish he7'! THANKSGIVING Upstairs in his trundle bed sleeps a child, Grown weary with hours of pleasure ; All day has his face like a sunbeam smiled Till he seemed a golden treasure; And I have been watching his winsome ways And listening to his prattle, While the joy I have felt would crown the days Of a soldier loving battle. In his bed he lies sleeping ; the tireless feet That busily nowhere travel, 15 i6 THANKSGIVING And the hands, with a touch so passing sweet They knotty brows unravel, Are at rest ; and the voice, Kke a silvery bell, Or the babble of brooks aflowing, For the time is still, and all is well, With thanksgiving heavenward going. Thank God for the little one given to me; For the child I would love so wisely His hands should ever cleanly be, His feet ever tread precisely, And his voice be raised mankind to call To God's and nature's glory. Away from the darkness, dimming all, To the light of ancient story. THE PENNY * * If I have a penny, pray, what do I do with it ? " Forthwith youd be off to buy something for you with it! Now, isn't it funny how each penny goes, And stranger than fiction that nobody knows What becomes of the penny! The penny's not lost; it's still going about, And its nimbleness keeps it from growing too stout; 17 i8 THE PENNY It scarcely finds time to get warm in a pocket Before busy hands from its comfort unlock it, And then goes the penny. Now over the counter, exchanged for a cake; Now into a box for the poor heathen s sake; Now dropped on the curb in exchange for a paper A penny oft causes a dime's worth of "caper" — Not a ''cent", but a "penny". There's money and money, but never a "cent" Except by a cold-blooded miser was spent. THE PENNY 19 A ' ' penny " they call it who spend it for fun — A penny! a penny! Now run for it! run! Where is the penny? THE BOX OF SAND Just back of the house, right under a tree, Is a box that is full of silver sand — Of sand that was washed by a saltless sea Till it rivals the white of a woman's hand; And out of that box of sand arise Such wonderful sights as never before Were spoken of lips or seen of eyes, And all within sight of our back door. There's an old pie-tin, with numberless holes, A shovel, a rake and an old tin can, A block of wood, and oh, dear souls! In the midst of these is a workingman; 20 THE BOX OF SAND 21 He is busily making pies and cakes And digging and sifting and playing store, The which a hole in his stomach makes, Which he brings to fill at our back door. And all of the little folk living near Have heard of this wonderful box of sand, So full of treasures their hearts hold dear; And in come trooping the busy band, Till the sands have forgotten the cruel sea And the waves that lashed the sounding shore, For the flood of laughter, the bubbling glee, That ripple and break by our back door. THE CROW * * Caw ! caw ! " said a crow From the limb of a tree. Said Rowland: ''I'd know What he's saying to me. " Why, the crow says ''caw!" He's expounding the law, And a very great lawyer is he. "Caw! caw!" I declare They will make him a judge! See, he made a point there Out of nothing but fudge; And now he cries ' ' caw ! " (Oh, how he can jaw!) You can tell by his air he'll not budge. 22 THE CROW 23 There's a cut to his clothes That gives him a hold Upon clients he loathes Except for their gold; And the clerical black That covers his back Has made him a fortune, I'm told. And if you would be Of an equal renown Then pattern by he And you'll capture the town. Look wise and say * ' caw ! " And your mother-in-law Would mistake your old hat for a crown. THREE One! Two! Three! Now where can the baby be? Only the briefest while ago We went into ecstasies over his ' ' crow. " Then he was creeping about the floor, And into our hearts he went all four! If then we had lost him, what had we done In the wonderful year of One! One! Two! Three! What a kidnaper Time can be! He's stolen my little child away That spoke my name but yesterday. 24 THREE 25 ' ' Take all that I have of silver and gold, And give me again httle Two-Years- Old"— Such reward I had offered to you, and to you, In the beautiful year of Two. One! Two! Three! 'Tis God's sweet mystery! Time's not a thief, but a bringer of joy, And has doubled my blessings in this dear boy. Oh, give me to love him, and do not refuse. Kind Fortune, what's needed for stockings and shoes! To love him in wisdom, that he may love me Long years that may follow year Three ! THE SONG OF THE CLOCK * ' Tick-tock ! tick-tock ! " Sayeth the clock. **And time is a circle and knoweth no end: With hands ever busy, with face ever bright, I never shall fail thee by day or by night. An arm to uphold thee, an arm to defend, You ever shall find me your friend, your friend. " * * Tick-tock ! tick-tock ! " Sayeth the clock. **The minutes I measure are not of a size: 26 THE SONG OF THE CLOCK 27 The glad ones shall linger, the sad ones shall haste, But never a moment of all shall I waste ; And ever and ever, whatever the skies, Grows shorter the journey to paradise. " HOORAY FOR CHRISTMAS Hooray for Christmas! Seen my sled? The best one ever any boy hed! She's good for coastin' down the hill, For we've just tried her — me and Bill. And Bill's a big boy and he knows A proper sled: he says mine ''goes." You're right, she does go! Just to-day I've made three horses run away! But hitchin' makes the drivers mad! I like to do it. Guess I'm bad. For now the presents are undone I'm thinkin' of pernicious fun. 28 HOORAY FOR CHRISTMAS 29 I'm plannin' some delayed delights As a reward for ''stayin' in nights;" The sugar bowl I'll fill with rice To compensate for *'bein' nice," And my old drum Til beat to kill The pain contracted ' ' keepin' still. " Hooray for Christmas! Once a year It pays to act a little "queer; " To keep the woodshed door shut tight; To kiss the family "good night"; But — ^^cuse me! There's Deacon Price, Who sprinkled ashes on our ice! ROWLAND'S VIEW When I see other children swing, No matter how they try, They never seem, by leagues and leagues, To swing so high as I. When I go swinging, 'tis so strange! A httle push will do, And I go sailing in the sky — My feet stick through the blue. 30 A FIRST VALENTINE Mistress Elizabeth, sweetheart mine, Hath never yet looked on a valentine; At this you will wonder because her eyes Are blue as the bluest of June's fair skies, And her cheeks are so blushingly ripe and so round You will vow that a sweeter pair could not be found. Mistress Elizabeth, sweetheart mine. Will rumple and crumple this valentine. The first of a series fond lovers will send, Declaring devotion that knowetn no end. 31 32 A FIRST VALENTINE She careth so little — alas! and ah me! But such cold indifference long cannot be. To Mistress Elizabeth, sweetheart mine, My heart goes forth with this valentine. Some day and forever I'd have her to know, However her lovers may come or may go, There is one who hath loved her, who loveth her still, And thus doth he sign himself: Uncle Will. THE ORB OF DAY AND DOROTHY Dorothy Palmer, I love you, Your other beau's away; Here are three big kisses — just a few In honor of the day. St. Valentine is such a rogue — He says such silly things; His compHments just now in vogue Were old these fifty springs. ril not repeat one — no, not one! I'll say but only this: The sun for all the race he'd run Would stop to get your kiss. 33. STRAWBERRIES This is the season of the year When woods are green and skies are clear. With my mamma each morn I go A-riding where the strawberries grow. In little boxes, piled up high Like building blocks, they blushing lie. And oh, believe me those who can! The gardener is the grocery man. Then all about the town we ride — '•Good morn! Good morn!" on every side. And we are home again so soon I take a nap and then 'tis noon! 34 STRAWBERRIES 35 For luncheon is the table spread And I have milk and buttered bread. Says my mamma, with kisses two: * * No strawberries are so good as you. " DREAM AND SNOWFLAKE Dear little boy, my little boy, So sleepy, so sleepy. See the soft descending snow Glancing, dancing to and fro Just to pleasure thee, I know. Dear little boy, my little boy. So sleepy, so sleepy. Dear little boy, my little boy, So sleepy, so sleepy, Close thine eyes. Dost thou not see Visions fair as fair can be? They are dreams come down to thee, Dear little boy, my little boy. So sleepy, so sleepy. 36 DREAM AND SNOWFLAKE 37 Dear little boy, my little boy, So sleepy, so sleepy. Dreams and snowflakes downward fly; Soon, too soon, they bid good-by. Kiss the earth and mount the sky. Dear little boy, my little boy, So sleepy, so sleepy. BED-TIME Just a little while ago, When I went up to bed, No lamp was lit the way to show For fear I'd bump my head: And after tea outdoors I'd run; The sky was still so bright I'd only know the day was done When mother called ' 'Good-night. " Now the lamps are lit for tea And stars are in the sky; The stair and hall are bright for me And bed-time's always nigh; For after tea I stay within And find such dear delight In picture-books, I feel like sin When mother calls ' ' Good-night. " 38 A FOUR-YEAR-OLD A four-year-old's a baby, Whatever you do or say. You may rig him out in a roundabout And teach him the time of day; v As his muscles grow he will bluster and blow Till you think him an army of men; Until short of breath you may ''love him to death, " And declare, ''he's his father again," But, whether you will, he's a baby still, Whatever you do or say. A four-year-old's a baby. Whatever you do or say. He may run and shout and want to play out In the yard the livelong day; 39 40 A FOUR-YEAR-OLD He may put on his hat and his coat and all that And button his shoes with a hook; He may swagger and strut and pretend to be, but, No matter how big he may look. He's a baby still, whether you will, Whatever you do or say. A four-year-old's a baby, Whatever you do or say You may call him a man, as a mother can. Seventy times a day; If he cries when he's hurt, all covered with dirt You'll gather him up in your arms. Nor kisses refuse to cover the bruise And quiet his tearful alarms. For, whether you will, he's a baby still, Whatever you do or say. IN FAIRYLAND An afternoon in fairyland! Have you known such delight? Have you beheld a Brownie band Beneath a moonbeam s light? Oh, I have seen a fairy queen A-hiding in a posie, And watched her fays to my amaze Play ring around the rosie. I took a little hand in mine And speedily we fled; The land of prose in which you pine To us was wholly dead. Dear fairyland was near at hand And we were, oh, so cosy! A crooked stair soon brought us there With ring around the rosie. 41 43 IN FAIRYLAND What happiness to see again With morn's unclouded eyes! The things we overlook as men Would make a paradise. With you, my lad, my heart is glad, The joy you give my crown is! Bless Palmer Cox whose art unlocks The secrets of the Brownies! WAITING FOR SNOW '* To-morrow will it snow, mamma? To-morrow will it snow?" ''It comes from God, my eager child; Praise Him, we may not know." "And did it snow last night, mamma? And did it snow last night?" '' Whate'er He sends, my precious one, Praise Him with all thy might. " * * To-morrow will it snow, mamma ? To-morrow will it snow? " "Full soon will winter come, mine own. And spring we may not know." 43 44 WAITING FOR SNOW "And did it snow last night, mamma? And did it snow last night? " ' 'And if it did, my darling child, 'Twould make thy pathway white. " A LITTLE SHAVER Sometimes a little shaver comes When I'm about to shave And begs for * * shabing " on his face Upturned so sweet and grave. He wants a towel round his neck, A mirror — bless his hfe ! * * A cup and brush and razor" — What ! He gets a paper knife. And there he'll stand and soberly Attack, and nothing loath, What summers four have scattered o'er His face of stubborn grov/th. And while he works, his soapy face Is so surpassing grave, I smile within, then smile without, And cut me as I shave. 45 WHEN IT RAINS When it rains it seems as though The tiresome day would never go. Indoor games and indoor toys Are more for girls 'n they are for boys. Not much fun for me to play In the house the livelong day, Building blocks and 'tending store — When it rains it 's such a bore! When it rains, my mother says, The birds enjoy it anyways. Grass and trees and all such things As have their roots, or have their wings, Suffer for the lack of rain; Boys, they, too, can suffer pain! I'd enjoy it same as they If outdoors she'd let me play. 46 WHEN IT RAINS 47 When it rains she's 'fraid I'll get Shoes and stockings soaking wet. Like to take them off and go Paddling round, but she says, No. See the postman! He don't care. Walks in water everywhere! Guess I'll play it's raining here. Want a letter, mother, dear? THE WONDERFUL JAR Here's a wonderful jar of Japanese ware, It is yellow, and daisies of white Are strewn on its sides, now here and now there. Wherever 'tis turned to the light; The stems are of gold I'd have you behold And gold are the leaves just as well — But enough of this wonderful jar has been told And now of its contents I'll tell. I'll not lift the lid, for beneath it are hid Such fabulous treasures as these : The leaves of a plant from the land of Ah Sid; Some gold that was coined by bees; 48 THE WONDERFUL JAR 49 Some jewels like glass that were found in the grass, And some lace of the filmiest weave — A queen, had she lost it, might well cry, '^Alas! Misfortune hath caused me to grieve. " In this jar there is silk and a pearl, white as milk, — A monarch-friend gave them to me Who has riches too great for my pen to relate ; Of course I refer to King C. And then there's a seed that's a marvel, indeed, Just plant it and see what 'twill do! The fruit on the tree though single it be Is always the equal of two! My wonderful jar, what a treasure you are! What secrets you guardedly keep! 50 THE WONDERFUL JAR Altho' you're so small if I should tell all, That you hold 'twould put Rowland to sleep: For, guessing all day would cease to be play, Little boys grow weary so soon! So ril carefully lift you and hide you away As the daylight has hidden the moon. MARTHA GOING FISHING Beware, ye fishes, Martha comes! She'll offer tempting bait, And be it angleworms or crumbs. Be not too eager — wait! Little fishes, not for you She angles — this I know; Only to-day I heard her say: ''For great big fish I go!" Ah! there she goes with hook and line And nurse to hold her in; For when she sees the water shine On flapping tail and fin Her wild delight will know no bounds, She'll laugh and clap her hands; Her sparkling eyes will shame the prize Which brother William lands. 51 52 MARTHA GOING FISHING Little Mistress Martha Clow, In years to come, what then? Is this a fair example how Some day you'll fish for men? Happy the victim of your art, A peerless, blameless knight — May he be thine steadfast to shine And give thy soul delight! MARTHA'S COOKIES The wondrous cookies Martha makes, The pies and cakes and things, Would tempt one to enjoy the ills That indigestion brings. Such goodness from such simple store Does Martha Clow concoct It is not safe the pantry door To leave an hour unlocked. I've seen her take a scoop of sand (It should not be too dry) And roll it on the molding board And presently 'tis — pie ! She does not fuss with draughts and flues, Her oven quickly bakes, And consequently ''bake day blues" Do not affect her cakes. 53 54 MARTHA'S COOKIES But Martha's cookies! I declare Them more than simply "good"; For just a dozen I'd exchange A ton of angels' food! No baker's wares with them compete; No matron's pantry shelf; You want the more the more you eat - I've eaten six myself! IN MEMORIAM— E. F. I I have not come With fife and drum To sound the praise of him Who now hes low, But only so To bring one fragrant limb Of that sweet tree Of love that he Made grow in every heart; To drop a tear Upon his bier Before his dust depart. 55 56 IN MEMORIAM— E. F. II He sleeps whose loving lullabies Have closed to pleasant dreams, In every land, the children's eyes. He sleeps, he sleeps the long last sleep. How past behef it seems, This loss that men and women weep! He sleeps; no more his voice we'll hear; Its deep-toned tenderness Making the heart give up a tear. He sleeps whose songs shall sing for aye All loving hearts to bless; This is the morning of his day. IN MEMORIAM— E. F. 57 III My child, do you know your lover is dead? That the friend of all children lies low? Last night he was living, when you went to bed. And now — what is choking me so? An angel came down from the precincts of heaven. And finding a pure white soul She folded it close to her breast snow- driven And hurried away to its goal. 58 IN MEMORIAM— E. F. Up there, little child, he'll have tenderest care; He'll be rocked in a cradle like you; And when he awakes his dreams he will share With his own dear Little Boy Blue. A child again, he will hear once more The voice his childhood knew; His mother's voice — O my child, adore The mother that blesses you! But let us not grieve because it is so; The heart that we loved has left A sunshine of song — let us singing go Forgetting that we are bereft. FEB 8 1899 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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