Chapter 17
They had a cherry pie, Besides some currant wine, And every guest brought something, That sumptuous they might dine.
Now they all sat or stood To eat and to drink; And every one said what He happened to think; They each took a b.u.mper, And drank to the pair: c.o.c.k Robin, the bridegroom, And Jenny Wren, the fair.
The dinner-things removed, They all began to sing; And soon they made the place Near a mile round to ring.
The concert it was fine; And every bird tried Who best could sing for Robin And Jenny Wren, the bride.
Then in came the Cuckoo, And he made a great rout: He caught hold of Jenny, And pulled her about.
c.o.c.k Robin was angry, And so was the Sparrow, Who fetched in a hurry His bow and his arrow.
His aim then he took, But he took it not right; His skill was not good, Or he shot in a fright; For the Cuckoo he missed, But c.o.c.k Robin killed!-- And all the birds mourned That his blood was so spilled.
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THE BURIAL OF POOR c.o.c.k ROBIN
Who killed c.o.c.k Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow; And I killed c.o.c.k Robin."
Who saw him die?
"I," said the Fly, "With my little eye; And I saw him die."
Who caught his blood?
"I," said the Fish, "With my little dish; And I caught his blood."
Who made his shroud?
"I," said the Beetle, "With my little needle; And I made his shroud."
Who will be the parson?
"I," said the Rook; "With my little book; And I will be the parson."
Who will dig his grave?
"I," said the Owl, "With my spade and shovel; And I'll dig his grave."
Who will be the clerk?
"I," said the Lark, "If 'tis not in the dark; And I will be the clerk."
Who'll carry him to the grave?
"I," said the Kite, "If 'tis not in the night; And I'll carry him to the grave."
Who will be the chief mourner?
"I," said the Dove, "Because of my love; And I will be chief mourner."
Who will sing a psalm?
"I," said the Thrush, As she sat in a bush; "And I will sing a psalm."
Who will bear the pall?
"We," said the Wren, Both the c.o.c.k and the Hen; "And we will bear the pall."
Who will toll the bell?
"I," said the Bull, "Because I can pull."
And so, c.o.c.k
All the birds of the air Fell to sighing and sobbing When they heard the bell toll For poor c.o.c.k Robin.
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The following tale was edited (1885) for children by John Ruskin from a version "written princ.i.p.ally by a lady of ninety (Mrs. Sharp.)"
Ruskin himself added the third, fourth, eighth, and ninth stanzas, because "in the old books no account is given of what the cats learned when they went to school, and I thought my younger readers might be glad of some notice of such particulars." But he thought his rhymes did not ring like the real ones, of which he said: "I aver these rhymes to possess the primary value of rhyme--that is, to be rhythmical in a pleasant and exemplary degree." The book was ill.u.s.trated with quaint woodcuts for each stanza after the edition of 1823, with additional drawings for the four new stanzas by Kate Greenaway, one of the most famous ill.u.s.trators of children's books. Ruskin commends the result "to the indulgence of the Christmas fireside, because it relates nothing that is sad, and portrays nothing that is ugly."
DAME WIGGINS OF LEE, AND HER SEVEN WONDERFUL CATS
Dame Wiggins of Lee Was a worthy old soul, As e'er threaded a nee- dle, or wash'd in a bowl; She held mice and rats In such antipa-thy, That seven fine cats Kept Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The rats and mice scared By this fierce whisker'd crew, The poor seven cats Soon had nothing to do; So, as any one idle She ne'er loved to see, She sent them to school, Did Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Master soon wrote That they all of them knew How to read the word "milk"
And to spell the word "mew."
And they all washed their faces Before they took tea: "Were there ever such dears!"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
He had also thought well To comply with their wish To spend all their play-time In learning to fish For st.i.tlings; they sent her A present of three, Which, fried, were a feast For Dame Wiggins of Lee.
But soon she grew tired Of living alone; So she sent for her cats From school to come home.
Each rowing a wherry, Returning you see: The frolic made merry Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Dame was quite pleas'd And ran out to market; When she came back They were mending the carpet.
The needle each handled As brisk as a bee; "Well done, my good cats,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
To give them a treat, She ran out for some rice; When she came back, They were skating on ice.
"I shall soon see one down, Aye, perhaps, two or three, I'll bet half-a-crown,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
When spring-time came back They had breakfast of curds; And were greatly afraid Of disturbing the birds.
"If you sit, like good cats, All the seven in a tree, They will teach you to sing!"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
So they sat in a tree, And said "Beautiful! Hark!"
And they listened and looked In the clouds for the lark.
Then sang, by the fireside, Symphonious-ly A song without words To Dame Wiggins of Lee.
They called the next day On the tomt.i.t and sparrow, And wheeled a poor sick lamb Home in a barrow.
"You shall all have some sprats For your humani-ty, My seven good cats,"