Identifier: goldenstaircasep00chis2 (find matches)
Title: The golden staircase: poems and verses for children
Year: 1907 (1900s)
Authors: Chisholm, Louey, comp Spooner, M. Dibdin
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, G.P. Putnam's Sons London, T.C. and E.C. Jack
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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a large hoe and a shovel also,And dig till you gently perspire ; 84 THE GOLDEN STAIRCASE And then you will find that the sun and the wind,And the Djinn of the Garden too, Have lifted the hump— The horrible hump—The hump that is black and blue I I get it as well as you-oo-oo If I havent enough to do-oo-oo, We all get hump— Cameelious hump—Kiddies and grown-ups too! BUDYARD KIPLING. THE BAD BOY ONCE a little round-eyed ladDetermined to be very bad. He called his porridge nasty pap,And threw it all in nurses lap. His gentle sisters cheek he hurt,He smudged his pinny in the dirt. He found the bellows, and he blewThe pet canary right in two ! And when he went to bed at nightHe would not say his prayers aright. This pained a lovely twinkling starThat watched the trouble from afar. She told her bright-faced friends, and soonThe dreadful rumour reached the moon. The moon, a gossiping old dame,Told Father Sun the bad boys shame. And then the giant sun beganA very satisfactory plan. % \
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LlpTEDTMEHUMP-THE HORRIBLE HUMP —THE HUMP THAT IS BLACK AND BUJE! THE GOLDEN STAIRCASE 85 Upon the naughty rebels face He would not pour his beamy grace. He would not stroke the dark-brown strandsWith entertaining shiny hands. The little garden of the boySeemed desert, missing heavens joy. But all his sisters tulips grewMagnificent with shine and dew. Whereer he went he found a shade,But light was poured upon the maid. He also lost, by his disgrace, That indoors sun, his mothers face. His father sent him up to bedWith neither kiss nor pat for head. And in his sleep he had such foes,Bad fairies pinched his curling toes— They bit his ears, they pulled his hairs,They threw him three times down the stairs. Oh little boys who would not missA fathers and a mothers kiss, Who would not cause a sister pain,Who want the sun to shine again, Who want sweet beams to tend the plot,Where grows the pet forget-me-not, Who hate a life of streaming eyes,Be good, be merry, and be wise. NORMAN GALE. 8

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