Lines to a Wassick

Hoots, toots, ca' canny, Scots wha hae!
Inteet to gootness, by my fay!

Hier man spricht Deutsch, calloo callay,

For auld lang syne!

Hoo jink the yammerin' corbies neigh

Aboon the kine?

105

F. W. THOMAS.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

(a) Sonsie Stots; a small green fruit, like a wimble but larger.

(b) Splarritch; an old Scots word meaning "The green grocer's second cousin."

(c) Aiblins; these are seldom met with to-day, owing to the distance.

(d) Blethers; a blether is a female cow (pronounced "coo"), but if you are kind to it it will not do so.

(e) Crummocks; a cross between a bannock and a crumpet, and much sought after in the North. No one has found any yet.

(f) Whist; a game played with a pack of fifty-two cards. (g) Gin; this means "if" and has no reference to the national beverage which remains the same as before.

F. W. T.

The eminent Professor of Phlebotomy at Prague University who is a connection of the anthologist. His contribution arrived at a very opportune moment when, by some miscalculation, the compiler and publishers of this work found themselves with an admirable illustration by Mr. Bateman for which there was no letterpress.

It is a remarkable coincidence that the Professor's verse should be so appropriate to the picture, and I wish to acknowledge his generosity for unhorning us so felicitously from an awkward dilemma. "It will be sufficient reward," wrote he, "for my name to be handed down to posterity in the pages of your inimitable enchiridion. One stipulation, however, I must make and that is that you do not sell the Czecho-Slovakian rights of your work, or allow it to be translated into the language of my country, for if it were known that I were the author of the verse in question, I should be exposed to the risk of assassination." This stipulation we have, of course, given gladly.

The Mulgar Journey Song

(From "The Three Mulla-Mulgars")

In Munza a Mulgar once lived alone,
And his name it was Dubbuldideery, O;
With none to love him, and loved by none,
His hard old heart it grew weary, O

Weary, O weary, O weary.

So he up with his cudgel, he on with his bag
Of Manaka, Ukkos, and Keeri, O;

To seek for the waters of "Old-Made-Young,"
Went marching old Dubbuldideery, O

Dubbuldi-dubbuldi-deery.

He came to the country of "Catch Me and Eat Me"

Not a fleck of a flicker did fear he, O,

For he knew in his heart they could never make mince-meat Of tough old Dubbuldideery, O,

Rough, tough, gruff, Dubbuldideery.

He waded the Ooze of Queen Better-Give-Up,

Dim, dank, dark, dismal and dreary, O,

And crunch! went a leg down a Cockadrill's throat, "What's one?" said Dubbuldideery, O,

Undauntable Dubbuldideery.

He cut him an Ukka crutch, hobbled along,
Till Tishnar's sweet river came near he, 0,—
The wonderful waters of "Old-Made-Young,"
A shining for Dubbuldideery, O,

Wan, wizened old Dubbuldideery.

108

Book of Nonsense Verse

He drank, and he drank-and he drank-and he drank:

No more was he old and weary, O,

But weak as a babby, he fell in the river
And drowned was Dubbuldideery, O,

Drown-ded was Dubbuldideery!

WALTER DE LA MARE.

The Ambitious Mussel1

Oh listen, dears, while I proceed
To tell of Mortimer, the mussel;
And how a life he yearned to lead
Of keenness, energy and hustle.

A large and rugged rock he had
For years stuck very very tight on,
Beside his mother and his dad,

Not very far from Kemp Town, Brighton.

Now Mortimer, for one of his breed,
Possessed considerable knowledge,

He early learnt to write and read,
And always topped his class at college.