Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: Caw! Caw! Or The Chronicle of Crows A Tale of the Spring-time by R M Blackburn Jemima Illustrator
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 67 lines and 7457 words, and 2 pages
Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands, And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;-- "Ah!" said Mamma, "I knew he'd come To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb."
Augustus was a chubby lad; Fat ruddy cheeks Augustus had; And every body saw with joy The plump and hearty healthy boy. He ate and drank as he was told, And never let his soup get cold. But one day, one cold winter's day! He scream'd out--"Take the soup away! O take the nasty soup away! I won't have any soup to-day."
Next day, now look, the picture shows How lank and lean Augustus grows! Yet, though he feels so weak and ill, The naughty fellow cries out still-- "Not any soup for me, I say: O take the nasty soup away! I won't have any soup to-day."
The third day comes; Oh what a sin! To make himself so pale and thin. Yet, when the soup is put on table, He screams, as loud as he is able,-- "Not any soup for me, I say: O take the nasty soup away! I won't have any soup to-day!"
Look at him, now the fourth day's come He scarcely weighs a sugar-plum; He's like a little bit of thread; And on the fifth day, he was--dead!
Let me see if Philip can Be a little gentleman; Let me see, if he is able To sit still for once at table: Thus Papa bade Phil behave; And Mamma look'd very grave. But fidgety Phil, He won't sit still; He wriggles And giggles, And then, I declare, Swings backwards and forwards And tilts up his chair, Just like any rocking horse;-- "Philip! I am getting cross!"
See the naughty restless child Growing still more rude and wild, Till his chair falls over quite. Philip screams with all his might Catches at the cloth, but then That makes matters worse again. Down upon the ground they fall, Glasses, plates, knives, forks and all. How Mamma did fret and frown, When she saw them tumbling down! And Papa made such a face! Philip is in sad disgrace.
Where is Philip, where is he? Fairly cover'd up you see! Cloth and all are lying on him; He has pull'd down all upon him. What a terrible to-do! Dishes, glasses, snapt in two! Here a knife, and there a fork! Philip, this is cruel work. Table all so bare, and ah! Poor Papa, and poor Mamma Look quite cross, and wonder how They shall make their dinner now.
As he trudg'd along to school, It was always Johnny's rule To be looking at the sky And the clouds that floated by; But what just before him lay, In his way, Johnny never thought about; So that every one cried out-- "Look at little Johnny there, Little Johnny Head-In-Air!"
Running just in Johnny's way, Came a little dog one day; Johnny's eyes were still astray Up on high, In the sky; And he never heard them cry-- "Johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!" Bump! Dump! Down they fell, with such a thump. Dog and Johnny in a lump!
Once, with head as high as ever, Johnny walk'd beside the river. Johnny watch'd the swallows trying Which was cleverest at flying. Oh! what fun! Johnny watch'd the bright round sun Going in and coming out; This was all he thought about. So he strode on, only think! To the river's very brink, Where the bank was high and steep, And the water very deep; And the fishes, in a row, Stared to see him coming so.
One step more! Oh! sad to tell! Headlong in poor Johnny fell. And the fishes, in dismay, Wagg'd their tails and ran away.
There lay Johnny on his face, With his nice red writing-case; But, as they were passing by, Two strong men had heard him cry; And, with sticks, these two strong men Hook'd poor Johnny out again.
Oh! you should have seen him shiver When they pull'd him from the river. He was in a sorry plight, Dripping wet, and such a fright! Wet all over, every where, Clothes, and arms, and face, and hair: Johnny never will forget What it is to be so wet.
And the fishes, one, two, three, Are come back again, you see; Up they came the moment after, To enjoy the fun and laughter. Each popp'd out his little head. And, to tease poor Johnny, said "Silly little Johnny, look, You have lost your writing-book!"
What a wind! Oh! how it whistles Through the trees and flow'rs and thistles! It has caught his red umbrella; Now look at him, silly fellow, Up he flies To the skies. No one heard his screams and cries; Through the clouds the rude wind bore him, And his hat flew on before him.
Soon they got to such a height, They were nearly out of sight! And the hat went up so high, That it really touch'd the sky. No one ever yet could tell Where they stopp'd, or where they fell: Only, this one thing is plain, Bob was never seen again!
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page