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Read Ebook: Fables for the Frivolous by Carryl Guy Wetmore Newell Peter Illustrator
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Ebook has 193 lines and 12406 words, and 4 pages
It was really quite revolting When the tumult died away, One would think he had been moulting So dishevelled was the jay; He was more than merely slighted, He was more than disunited, He'd been simply dynamited In the fervor of the fray.
And THE MORAL of the verses Is: That short men can't be tall. Nothing sillier or worse is Than a jay upon a mall. And the jay opiniative Who, because he's imitative, Thinks he's highly decorative Is the biggest jay of all.
THE ARROGANT FROG
AND
THE SUPERIOR BULL
A bull of Brobdingnagian size, Too proud for condescension, One morning chanced to cast his eyes Upon the frog I mention; And, being to the manner born, Surveyed him with a lofty scorn.
Perceiving this, the bactrian's frame With anger was inflated, Till, growing larger, he became Egregiously elated; For inspiration's sudden spell Had pointed out a way to swell.
"Ha! ha!" he proudly cried, "a fig For this, your mammoth torso! Just watch me while I grow as big As you--or even more so!" To which magniloquential gush His bullship simply answered "Tush!"
Alas! the frog's success was slight, Which really was a wonder, In view of how with main and might He strove to grow rotunder! And, standing patiently the while, The bull displayed a quiet smile.
But ah, the frog tried once too oft And, doing so, he busted; Whereat the bull discreetly coughed And moved away, disgusted, As well he might, considering The wretched taste that marked the thing.
THE MORAL: Everybody knows How ill a wind it is that blows.
THE DOMINEERING EAGLE
AND
THE INVENTIVE BRATLING
O'er a small suburban borough Once an eagle used to fly, Making observations thorough From his station in the sky, And presenting the appearance Of an animated V, Like the gulls that lend coherence Unto paintings of the sea.
Looking downward at a church in This attractive little shire, He beheld a smallish urchin Shooting arrows at the spire; In a spirit of derision, "Look alive!" the eagle said; And, with infinite precision, Dropped a feather on his head.
And THE MORAL is that pride is The precursor of a fall. Those beneath you to deride is Not expedient at all. Howsoever meek and humble Your inferiors may be, They perchance may make you tumble, So respect them. Q. E. D.
THE ICONOCLASTIC RUSTIC
AND
THE APROPOS ACORN
Reposing 'neath some spreading trees, A populistic bumpkin Amused himself by offering these Reflections on a pumpkin: "I would not, if the choice were mine, Grow things like that upon a vine, For how imposing it would be If pumpkins grew upon a tree."
Like other populists, you'll note, Of views enthusiastic, He'd learned by heart, and said by rote A creed iconoclastic; And in his dim, uncertain sight Whatever wasn't must be right, From which it follows he had strong Convictions that what was, was wrong.
As thus he sat beneath an oak An acorn fell abruptly And smote his nose: whereat he spoke Of acorns most corruptly. "Great Scott!" he cried. "The Dickens!" too, And other authors whom he knew, And having duly mentioned those, He expeditiously arose.
Then, though with pain he nearly swooned, He bathed his organ nasal With arnica, and soothed the wound With extract of witch hazel; And surely we may well excuse The victim if he changed his views: "If pumpkins fell from trees like that," He murmured, "Where would I be at?"
Of course it's wholly clear to you That when these words he uttered He proved conclusively he knew Which side his bread was buttered; And, if this point you have not missed, You'll learn to love this populist, The only one of all his kind With sense enough to change his mind.
THE MORAL: In the early spring A pumpkin-tree would be a thing Most gratifying to us all, But how about the early fall?
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 woodcutter's mind being vapid And his foolishness more than profuse, In order to get them more rapid He slaughtered the innocent goose.
He made her a gruel of acid Which she very obligingly ate, And at once with a touchingly placid Demeanor succumbed to her fate. With affection that passed the platonic They buried her under the moss, And her epitaph wasn't ironic In stating, "We mourn for our loss."
And THE MORAL: It isn't much use, As the woodcutter found to be true, To lay for an innocent goose Just because she is laying for you.
THE RUDE RAT
AND
THE UNOSTENTATIOUS OYSTER
Upon the shore, a mile or more From traffic and confusion, An oyster dwelt, because he felt A longing for seclusion; Said he: "I love the stillness of This spot. It's like a cloister."
A prying rat, believing that She needed change of diet, In search of such disturbed this much- To-be-desired quiet. To say the least, this tactless beast Was apt to rudely roister: She tapped his shell, and called him--well, A name that hurt the oyster.
We note with joy that oi polloi, Whom maidens bite the thumb at, Are apt to try some weak reply To things they should be dumb at. THE MORAL, then, for crafty men Is: When a maid has voiced her Contemptuous heart, don't think you're smart, But shut up--like the oyster.
THE URBAN RAT
AND
THE SUBURBAN RAT
A metropolitan rat invited His country cousin in town to dine: The country cousin replied, "Delighted." And signed himself, "Sincerely thine." The town rat treated the country cousin To half a dozen Kinds of wine.
His cousin followed him, helter-skelter, And, pausing beneath the pantry floor, He glanced around at their dusty shelter And muttered, "This is a beastly bore. My place as an epicure resigning, I'll try this dining In town no more.
"You smile at the lot of a mere commuter, You think that my life is hard, mayhap, But I'm sure than you I am far acuter: I ain't afraid of no cat nor trap." The city rat could but meekly stammer, "Don't use such grammar, My worthy chap."
He dined next night with his poor relation, And caught dyspepsia, and lost his train, He waited an hour in the lonely station, And said some things that were quite profane. "I'll never," he cried, in tones complaining, "Try entertaining That rat again."
THE IMPECUNIOUS CRICKET
AND
THE FRUGAL ANT
There was an ant, a spinster ant, Whose virtues were so many That she became intolerant Of those who hadn't any: She had a small and frugal mind And lived a life ascetic, Nor was her temperament the kind That's known as sympathetic.
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