 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
35
VERSES FOR PRUE
Father Christmas rubbed his eyes;
Found it was April; stared at the clock;
Filled his room with the sound of sighs,
Because of the Grandad's slow tick-tock.
He yearned to be off with his sack of toys
To a famous country of golden curls,
With goodness knows what for the dear little boys,
And better than that for the dear little girls.
Every time he woke in the summer
The heart of the kind old man turned glummer,
Longing for Ada, Roderick, Nancy,
Christopher, Nell, and (only fancy!)
You, Prue.
Found it was April; stared at the clock;
Filled his room with the sound of sighs,
Because of the Grandad's slow tick-tock.
He yearned to be off with his sack of toys
To a famous country of golden curls,
With goodness knows what for the dear little boys,
And better than that for the dear little girls.
Every time he woke in the summer
The heart of the kind old man turned glummer,
Longing for Ada, Roderick, Nancy,
Christopher, Nell, and (only fancy!)
You, Prue.
Father Christmas cracked his toes;
Found it was August; stared at the clock;
Said in his beard, “How starched he goes
By day and by night with his grim tick-tock!”
He yearned to be up on the roof once more,
Where the hailstones pepper his brave old head;
But yearning was vain, so pretending to snore
(To frighten the clock), he continued in bed.
Every time he woke in the summer
The heart of the dear old man turned glummer,
Longing for Jessie, Katharine, Bridget,
Hilary, John, and (golden fidget!)
You, Prue.
Found it was August; stared at the clock;
Said in his beard, “How starched he goes
By day and by night with his grim tick-tock!”
He yearned to be up on the roof once more,
Where the hailstones pepper his brave old head;
But yearning was vain, so pretending to snore
(To frighten the clock), he continued in bed.
Every time he woke in the summer
The heart of the dear old man turned glummer,
Longing for Jessie, Katharine, Bridget,
Hilary, John, and (golden fidget!)
You, Prue.
36
Father Christmas sat upright;
Found it December; glared at the clock;
Roared a hundred candles alight,
And searched in a rage for a red wool sock.
Too deep had he dreamed! It was time for his round
Of the chimneys ranked in a thousand miles.
By naming a word of astonishing sound
He shattered the roof, and was out on the tiles!
Dead and gone was the vexing summer
That wearied his heart and turned it glummer.
Hey! for the pillow-spread curls of Mary,
Christopher, Nell, and (silk-soft fairy!)
You, Prue!
Found it December; glared at the clock;
Roared a hundred candles alight,
And searched in a rage for a red wool sock.
Too deep had he dreamed! It was time for his round
Of the chimneys ranked in a thousand miles.
By naming a word of astonishing sound
He shattered the roof, and was out on the tiles!
Dead and gone was the vexing summer
That wearied his heart and turned it glummer.
Hey! for the pillow-spread curls of Mary,
Christopher, Nell, and (silk-soft fairy!)
You, Prue!
| A merry-go-round of song | |