Fables for the Frivolous, Guy Wetmore Carryl [phonics reading books txt] 📗

'most anywhere
    So long as we keep the brush."

  THE MORAL is this: It is never amiss
    To treasure the things you've penned:
  Preserve your tales, for, when all else fails,
    They'll be useful things--in the end.



THE HOSPITABLE CALEDONIAN

AND

THE THANKLESS VIPER


  A Caledonian piper
    Who was walking on the wold
  Nearly stepped upon a viper
    Rendered torpid by the cold;
  By the sight of her admonished,
    He forbore to plant his boot,
  But he showed he was astonished
    By the way he muttered "Hoot!"

  Now this simple-minded piper
    Such a kindly nature had
  That he lifted up the viper
    And bestowed her in his plaid.
  "Though the Scot is stern, at least he
    No unhappy creature spurns,
  'Sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,'"
    Quoth the piper (quoting Burns).

  This was unaffected kindness,
    But there was, to state the fact,
  Just a slight soupçon of blindness
    In his charitable act.
  If you'd watched the piper, shortly
    You'd have seen him leap aloft,
  As this snake, of ways uncourtly,
    Bit him suddenly and oft.

  There was really no excuse for
    This, the viper's cruel work,
  And the piper found a use for
    Words he'd never learned at kirk;
  But the biting was so thorough
    That although the doctors tried,
  Not the best in Edinburgh
    Could assist him, and he died.

  And THE MORAL is: The piper
    Of the matter made a botch;
  One can hardly blame the viper
    If she took a nip of Scotch,
  For she only did what he did,
    And his nippie wasn't small,
  Otherwise, you see, he needed
    Not have seen the snake at all.




THE IMPETUOUS BREEZE

AND

THE DIPLOMATIC SUN


  A Boston man an ulster had,
    An ulster with a cape that fluttered:
  It smacked his face, and made him mad,
    And polyglot remarks he uttered:
      "I bought it at a bargain," said he,
      "I'm tired of the thing already."

  The wind that chanced to blow that day
    Was easterly, and rather strong, too:
  It loved to see the galling way
    That clothes vex those whom they belong to:
      "Now watch me," cried this spell of weather,
      "I'll rid him of it altogether."

  It whirled the man across the street,
    It banged him up against a railing,
  It twined the ulster round his feet,
    But all of this was unavailing:
      For not without resource it found him:
      He drew the ulster closer round him.

  "My word!" the man was heard to say,
    "Although I like not such abuse, it's
  Not strange the wind is strong to-day,
    It always is in Massachusetts.
      Such weather threatens much the health of
      Inhabitants this Commonwealth of."

  The sun, emerging from a rift
    Between the clouds, observed the victim,
  And how the wind beset and biffed,
    Belabored, buffeted, and kicked him.
      Said he, "This wind is doubtless new here:
      'Tis quite the freshest ever blew here."

  And then he put forth all his strength,
    His warmth with might and main exerted,
  Till upward in its tube at length
    The mercury most nimbly spurted.
      Phenomenal the curious sight was,
      So swift the rise in Fahrenheit was.

  The man supposed himself at first
    The prey of some new mode of smelting:
  His pulses were about to burst,
    His every limb seemed slowly melting,
      And, as the heat began to numb him,
      He cast the ulster wildly from him.

  "Impulsive breeze, the use of force,"
    Observed the sun, "a foolish act is,
  Perceiving which, you see, of course.
    How highly efficacious tact is."
      The wondering wind replied, "Good gracious!
      You're right about the efficacious."

  THE MORAL deals, as morals do,
    With tact, and all its virtues boasted,
  But still I can't forget, can you,
    That wretched man, first chilled, then roasted?
      Bronchitis seized him shortly after,
      And that's no cause for vulgar laughter.