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diff --git a/39128.txt b/39128.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c481ee --- /dev/null +++ b/39128.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1658 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kensington Rhymes, by Compton Mackenzie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Kensington Rhymes + +Author: Compton Mackenzie + +Illustrator: J.R. Monsell + +Release Date: March 13, 2012 [EBook #39128] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KENSINGTON RHYMES *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif from scanned pages available at +the Internet Archive. + + + + + + + + +KENSINGTON RHYMES + +[Illustration: THE PUNCH AND JUDY SHOW] + + + + +KENSINGTON + +RHYMES + +BY COMPTON MACKENZIE + +ILLUSTRATED BY J. R. MONSELL + +LONDON: MARTIN SECKER + +NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET ADELPHI + +First published 1912 + +PRINTED BY + +BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD + +AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS + +TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN + +LONDON + + +TO + +ETHEL LONG + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + +OUR HOUSE 11 + +OUR SQUARE 15 + +THE DANCING CLASS 17 + +MY SISTER AT A PARTY 22 + +KISSING GAMES 26 + +A BALLAD OF THE ROUND POND 28 + +TOWN AND COUNTRY 35 + +POOR LAVENDER GIRLS 37 + +SUMMER HOLIDAYS 39 + +THE UNPLEASANT MOON 42 + +SUGGESTIONS ABOUT SLEEP 44 + +THE RARE BURGLAR 47 + +THE GERMAN BAND 49 + +THE DECEITFUL RAT-TAT 53 + +THE CAGE IN THE PILLAR BOX 54 + +THE FORTUNATE COALMEN 57 + +THE PAVEMENT ARTIST 60 + +SWEEPS 63 + +GREENGROCERS 65 + +CHRISTMAS NOT FAR OFF 66 + +THE DISAPPOINTMENT 67 + +TREASURE TROVE 68 + +A VISIT TO MY AUNT 73 + +DON QUIXOTE 77 + +THE WET DAY 84 + +LAST WORDS 87 + + + + +KENSINGTON RHYMES + +[Illustration: OUR HOUSE] + + OUR house is very high and red, + The steps are very white, + The balcony is full of flowers, + The knocker's very bright. + + The hall has got a coloured lamp, + A rack for father's hat, + And pegs for coats: a curious word[A] + Is printed on the mat. + + The kitchen ticks too loud at night, + It is a horrid place; + Black-beetles run about the floor + At a most dreadful pace. + + The cellar is quite black with coal, + The cat goes scratching there; + People go tramping past above, + But nobody knows where. + + The dining-room has rosy walls, + And silver knives and forks, + And when I listen at the door, + I hear the popping corks. + + The library smells like new boots, + It is a woolly room; + The housemaid comes at eight o'clock + And sweeps it with a broom. + + The staircase has a thousand rods + That rattle if you kick, + And when the twilight makes it blue + I rush up very quick. + + The landing is a dismal place, + The bannisters creak so, + The door-knobs twinkle horribly, + The gas is always low. + + The drawing-room is cold and white, + The chairs have crooked legs; + Silk ladies rustle in and out + While Fido sits and begs. + + The bathroom is a trickling room, + And always smells of paint, + The cupboard's full of medicine + For fever, cold or faint. + + My bedroom is a brassy room + With pictures on the wall: + It's rather full of nurse's clothes + But then my own are small. + + Our house is very high and red, + The steps are very white, + The balcony is full of flowers, + The knocker's very bright. + + [A] Nobody knows what SALVE means + +[Illustration: OUR SQUARE] + + OUR square is really most select, + Infectious children, dogs and cats + Are not allowed to come inside, + Nor any people from the flats. + + I have a sweetheart in the square, + I bring her pebbles that I find, + And curious shapes in mould, and sticks, + And kiss her when she does not mind. + + She wears a dress of crackling white, + A shiny sash of pink or blue, + And over these a pinafore, + And she comes out at half-past two. + + Her legs are tall and thin and black, + Her eyes are very large and brown, + And as she walks along the paths, + Her frock moves slowly up and down. + + We all have sweethearts in our square, + And when the winter comes again, + We shall go to the dancing-class + And watch them walking through the rain. + +[Illustration: THE DANCING CLASS] + +[Illustration: THE DANCING CLASS] + + EACH week on Friday night at six + Our dancing-class begins: + Two ladies dressed in white appear + And play two violins. + + It's really meant for boys at school, + But girls can also come, + And when you walk inside the room + You hear a pleasant hum. + + The older boys wear Eton suits, + The younger boys white tops; + We stand together in a row + And practise curious hops. + + The dancing-master shows the step + With many a puff and grunt; + He has a red silk handkerchief + Stuck grandly in his front. + + He's awfully excitable, + His wrists are very strong, + He drags you up and down the room + Whenever you go wrong. + + And when you're going very wrong, + The girls begin to laugh; + And when you're pushed back in your place, + The boys turn round and chaff. + + We've learnt the polka and the waltz, + We've _got_ the ladies' chain; + Although he says our final bows + Give him enormous pain. + + The floor is very slippery, + It's difficult to walk + From one end to the other end + Unless you sort of stalk. + + And when the steps have all been done, + He takes you by the arm + To choose a partner for the dance-- + It makes you get quite warm. + + You have to bow and look polite, + And ask with a grimace + The pleasure of the next quadrille, + And slouch into your place. + + He always picks out girls you hate, + I really don't know why, + And when you look across the room + It almost makes you cry + + To see the girl you would have picked + Dance with another boy + Without a single smile for you, + Determined to annoy. + + Your heart beats very loud and quick, + Your breath comes very fast, + You pinch your partner in the chain-- + But dances end at last. + + You think you will not look at her, + You look the other way; + Yet when she beckons with her fan, + You instantly obey. + + How quick the evening gallops by + And eight o'clock comes soon, + But not till you've arranged to meet + To-morrow afternoon. + +[Illustration: MY SISTER AT A PARTY] + + I HEAR the piano, the party's begun; + Hurry up! hurry up! there is going to be fun. + Leave your wrap in the hall and tie up your shoes, + There isn't a moment, a moment to lose. + Take a peep at the dining-room as you go by, + Lemonade, claret cup, orange wine you will spy: + And they're going to have two sorts of ices this year, + Both strawberry-cream and vanilla, I hear. + Twelve dances are down on the programme, I see. + Oh, do up your gloves, she is waiting for me! + I hear the piano, the polka's begun! + Oh, why does your beastly old sash come undone! + That's right, are your ready? now don't you forget + To say how d'ye do and express your regret + That Miss Perkins[B] is laid up in bed with a cold-- + It isn't my place--just you do as you're told. + I say, look at Frank,[C] he's behaving as though + He was playing with cads in a field full of snow; + He's sliding about on the slippery floor + All over the room with the kid from next door. + It's a jolly good thing that Miss Perkins' in bed, + They'll probably send old Eliza[D] instead. + When we hear that she's come, we'll just not attend, + Or tell her we never go home till the end. + They give all the maids when they come, orange wine-- + I say, do you think I might ask her for nine. + All right, only don't say I danced more than twice; + If you do, I'll say you have had more than one ice. + Mother said that you could? She said one of each? + You'd better look out or I'll jolly well peach. + You don't care if I do? All right, just you wait! + You'll tell Mrs. Jones we were not to be late? + I'm not pinching at all, you beastly young sneak! + You _won't_ follow me round when we play hide and seek! + There's Dorothy![E] Pax! You can eat what you like, + And to-morrow I'll give you a ride on my bike. + +[B] Miss Perkins is our governess] + +[C] He's my brother + +[D] Eliza is our housemaid + +[E] She's an awfully decent girl I know. + +[Illustration: KISSING GAMES] + + POSTMAN'S Knock! Postman's Knock! + A letter for the girl next door, + And two pence, please, to pay. + + Kiss in the Ring! Kiss in the Ring! + She's fallen down upon the floor, + I don't know what to say. + + Postman's Knock! Postman's Knock! + I wish that I had asked for more; + At games you must obey. + + Kiss in the Ring! Kiss in the Ring! + When running after her I tore + Her frock the other day. + + Postman's Knock! Postman's Knock! + A letter for the girl next door, + And a shilling she must pay.[F] + +[F] But she didn't + +[Illustration: BALLAD OF THE ROUND POND] + + THE Round Pond is a fine pond + With fine ships sailing there, + Cutters, yachts and men-o'-war, + And sailor-boys everywhere. + + Paper boats they hug the shore, + And row-boats move with string + But cutters, yachts and larger ships + Sail on like anything. + +[Illustration: THE ROUND POND] + + It was the schooner _Kensington_, + Set out one Saturday: + The wind was blowing from the east, + The sky was cold and grey. + + Her crew stood on the quarter-deck + And stared across the sea, + With two brass cannon in the stern + For the Royal Artillery. + + The Royal Tin Artillery + Had faced the sea before, + They had fallen in the bath one night + And heard the waste-plug roar. + + They were rescued by the nursery maid + And put on the ledge to dry; + And they looked more like the Volunteers + Than the Royal Artillery. + + For the blue had all come off their clothes, + And they afterwards wore grey; + But they stood by the cannon like Marines + That famous Saturday. + + The crew of the schooner _Kensington_ + Were Dutchmen to a man, + With wooden legs and painted eyes; + But the Captain he was bran. + + His blood was of the brownest bran + And his clothes were full of tucks; + But he fell in the sea half-way across, + And was eaten up by ducks. + + We launched the boat at half-past three, + And stood on the bank to watch, + And some friends of mine who were fishing there + Had a wonderful minnow-catch. + + Fifteen minnows were caught at once + In an ancient ginger jar, + When a shout went up that the _Kensington_ + Was heeling over too far. + + Too far for a five-and-sixpenny ship + That was warranted not to upset; + But she righted herself in half a tick + Though the crew got very wet. + + The crew got very wet indeed; + The Artillery all fell down, + And lay on their backs for the rest of the voyage + For fear they were going to drown. + + The schooner _Kensington_ sailed on + Across the wild Round Pond, + And we ran along the gravel-bank + With a hook stuck into a wand. + + A hook stuck into a wand to guide + The schooner safe ashore + To incandescent harbour lights + And a dock on the school-room floor. + + But suddenly the wind dropped dead. + And a calm came over the sea, + And a terrible rumour got abroad + It was time to go home to tea. + + We whistled loud, we whistled long, + The whole of that afternoon; + But there wasn't wind enough to float + A twopenny pink balloon. + + And the other chaps upon the bank + Looked anxiously out to sea; + For their sweethearts and sisters were going home, + And they feared for the cake at tea. + + * * * * * + + It was the schooner _Kensington_ + Came in at dead of night + With many another gallant ship + And one unlucky kite. + + The keeper found them at break of day, + And locked them up quite dry + In his little green hut, with a notice that + On Monday we must apply. + + So on Sunday after church we went + To stare at them through the door; + And we saw the schooner _Kensington_ + Keel upwards on the floor. + + But though we stood on the tips of our toes, + And craned our necks to see, + We could not spot the wooden-legged crew + Or the Royal Artillery. + +[Illustration: TOWN AND COUNTRY] + + THEY say that country children have + Most fierce adventures every night, + With owls and bats and giant moths + That flutter to the candle-light. + + They say that country children search + For earwigs underneath the sheets, + That creeping animals abound + Upon the wooden window-seats. + + They say that country children wash + Their hands in water full of things, + Tadpoles and newts and wriggling eels, + Until their hands are pink with stings. + + But this I know, that if they slept + Far, far away from owls and bats, + Their hearts would thump tremendously + To hear outside two fighting cats. + + Two cats that surely must come through + The inky window-pane and jump, + With gleaming eyes, upon my bed-- + Ah, then indeed their hearts would thump. + +[Illustration: POOR LAVENDER GIRLS] + + LAVENDER, lavender! + Summer's in town! + Blue skies and marguerites, + Mother's new gown! + + Lavender, lavender! + Summer's in town! + Blue seas and yellow sands, + Children have flown. + + Lavender, lavender! + Bunchy and sweet! + No one wants lavender + All down our street. + + Lavender girls in London never learn to play, + Give them a penny, a penny before you go away. + +[Illustration: GOOD-NIGHT] + +[Illustration: SUMMER HOLIDAYS] + + WHEN I was small and went to bed + Before the sun went down, + My cot was woven out of gold + Like a princess's gown. + + And in the garden every night, + I used to hear the birds, + And from the people on the lawn + A pleasant sound of words. + + The garden was quite full of pinks + Whose smell came blowing in + Through windows open very wide + Where gnats would dance and spin. + + And as I lay in my cool cot, + I'd think of daylight hours, + Poppies and ox-eyed daisies white, + And all the roadside flowers + + Now lifting up their drooping heads + In the long-shadow time; + I'd listen for my mother's step + The narrow stairs to climb. + + And as she bent to say good-night + And heard me say my prayer, + She seemed a bit of mignonette, + She was so sweet and fair. + + And just as I was dozing off, + I'd hear some jolly talk + Of aunts and uncles setting out + To take their supper-walk. + + I'd hear their voices die away + In the green curly lane; + But I was always fast asleep + When they came back again. + +[Illustration: THE UNPLEASANT MOON] + + THE moon is not much use to me, + She rises far too late: + I'm fonder of the friendly fire + That crackles in the grate. + + But when I wake up in the night + And find the fire asleep, + His ashes make a horrid noise + And mice begin to creep. + + And then the moon crawls in between + The curtains and the floor, + And when I turn my face away, + She's crawling round the door. + + Oh, then I wish she was the fire, + I like his light the most; + He does not give the furniture + A sort of shaking ghost. + + I hide my head beneath the clothes + And shut my eyes up tight, + And then I see queer dancing wheels + And spots of coloured light. + + They do not comfort me at all, + But pass the time away + Until I hear the milkman's can + And know that it is day. + +[Illustration: SUGGESTIONS ABOUT SLEEP] + + I'VE heard it said that the dustman + Is responsible for our sleep, + That he puts a pinch of dust in our eyes + When the stars begin to peep. + + If this is true it would quite explain + The horrible dreams that come, + For the dustman looks a rough sort of chap, + And his cart smells awfully rum. + +[Illustration: THE DUSTMAN] + + I've tried to talk to the dustman, + But his voice is fearfully hoarse; + And once I put a penny in the bin-- + It was taken out of course. + + But for all the good it did my dreams, + I need not have put it in; + Perhaps he thought that the penny had slipped + By accident into the bin. + + It seems absurd in this civilised age[G] + That our dreams should still be bad; + If the dustman _is_ responsible + I think he must be mad. + + It's horrid enough to lie awake, + And count the knobs on the bed; + But it's horrider far to go to sleep, + In fact I'd sooner be dead. + + I expect that then if one had bad dreams + And woke up in a fright, + There would be an angel somewhere about + To strike a cheerful light. + + And your governess is not always glad, + If you wake her up to say + That a witch has been chasing you down a street + Where the people have gone away. + +[G] Father said this about something. + +[Illustration: THE RARE BURGLAR] + + IT'S extremely unusual, my mother declares, + For a burglar to sleep at the top of the stairs: + The policemen, she says, are so terribly sure + That daily the number of burglars gets fewer. + They are caught by the dozen as morning comes round + And dragged off to cells very deep underground: + And there they repent of their wicked bad lives, + With occasional visits from children and wives. + So every night when I lie in my bed, + I listen to hear the policeman's deep tread. + I've a whistle that hangs on a piece of white cord, + And it's much more consoling than any tin sword: + For I know, if I blow, the policeman will come + And make the old burglar look awfully glum. + +[Illustration: THE GERMAN BAND] + + I LOVE to lie in bed and hear + The jolly German band. + Why people do not care for it + I cannot understand. + + They do not mind the orchestra. + And that makes far more noise; + They quite forget that music is + A thing that one enjoys. + + When grown-up people come and call, + I have to play for them; + And once a deaf old lady said + My playing was a gem. + + But it's not true for them to say + The Carnival de Venise[H] + With three wrong notes is better than + A band that plays with ease. + + It comes each week at eight o'clock, + And when I hear it play, + I am a knight upon a horse + And riding far away. + + The lines upon the blanket are + Six armies marching past, + Six armies marching on a plain, + Six armies marching fast. + + Of course I am the general, + I'm riding at the head; + But suddenly the music stops + And then I'm back in bed. + + Each time it plays brings different thoughts, + Exciting, sad and good. + I'm sailing in a sailing ship, + I'm walking in a wood. + + I'm going to the pantomime, + I'm at the hippodrome. + But when the music stops, why then + I always am at home. + + In winter when it's dark at eight, + The jolly German band + Drives all unpleasant thoughts away + Just like a fairy-wand. + + In summer when it's light at eight, + The German band still plays; + It makes me think of pleasant things + And seaside holidays. + + I've heard that it plays out of tune, + And upsets talking, and + I've heard it called a nuisance, but + I love the German band. + +[H] This is beastly difficult, and almost so decent as _Rosalie the +Prairie Flower_. + +[Illustration: THE DECEITFUL RAT-TAT] + + THE postman has given a loud rat-tat, + Perhaps it's a parcel for me: + Elizabeth does go slowly + To open the door and see. + + Oh dear, it's only a telegram, + To wait on the stand in the hall + Till Father comes home in the evening + Or Mother comes back from a call. + +[Illustration: THE CAGE IN THE PILLAR-BOX] + + I WONDER if an animal + Lives in the pillar-box, + For when the postman opens it + You see a cage with locks. + + And surely letters do not want + A cage with bars and clamps; + They have no wings, they could not fly, + They're held by sticky stamps. + + Perhaps the postman keeps a pet, + A savage beast of prey; + For lions, seals and diving-birds + Are fed three times a day. + + And all those figures on the plate + Are meant perhaps for you + To learn what time the beast is fed + Like others at the Zoo. + + And now I come to think of it, + The postman's coat and hat + Is not unlike a keeper's who + Feeds animals with fat. + + Besides, he always shuts the door + With a tremendous bang, + As if he feared to see stick out + An irritable fang. + + But then again I never heard + The faintest roar or squeak, + I never saw a sniffing nose + Or spied a hooky beak. + + So after all perhaps there's not + A bird, a beast or snake. + And yet to-morrow I shall post + A slice of cherry-cake. + +[Illustration: THE FORTUNATE COALMEN] + + IT is a pleasant thing to watch + The coalmen at their work; + They do not seem to mind the dark + Where many dangers lurk. + + The braver of them goes below + Into the cellar black, + And calls out in a cheerful voice + To bring another sack. + + The other grunts and groans a lot + Beneath his load of coal, + And down the ladder goes with care + Until he gains the hole. + + He turns his burden upside down, + The inside rattles out, + And a delicious smell of coal + Gets everywhere about. + + The braver one takes up his spade + And shovels it away; + The other wipes his shiny face, + And asks the time of day. + + But it is very strange to me + That neither seems to want + To put the ladder down the hole + And climb down where I can't. + + A man, they say, once broke his leg + By falling down a grating, + And nearly died for want of food, + Because they kept him waiting + + A week before they pulled him out + And took him to his home, + From which he never more went forth + The London streets to roam. + + But coalmen do not run these risks, + They have no nurse to frown, + So they might spend the whole long day + In climbing up and down.[I] + +[I] They are silly not to. + +[Illustration: THE PAVEMENT ARTIST] + + I THINK that I should like to be + A pavement artist best, + For he has every kind of chalk + Spread in a cosy nest. + + I have ten pieces in a box, + Black, yellow, white and blue, + Pink, red, brown, orange, grey and green, + But these are far too few. + +[Illustration: THE PAVEMENT ARTIST] + + He has a hundred different shades, + And most uncommon sorts; + He can draw salmon, queens and chops, + Wrecks, mutinies and forts. + + His cannon have enormous puffs + Of the most curly smoke, + Because he has so many 'greys,' + Far more than other folk. + + His girls are a delicious pink, + And mine are rather pale; + But then I have to be more strict + For fear my pink should fail. + + His fields have got a splendid green; + They're full of flowers bright; + But mine are covered up with snow + Because my paper's white. + + And yet with all these jolly chalks, + The artist seems in pain; + Perhaps because his pictures get + Rubbed out by showers of rain. + + But what I cannot understand + Is why each paving-stone + Has not a drawing on its face, + Why such a few are done. + + Our walks would be much pleasanter, + If all the dullest streets + Were illustrated like a book + And gay as flags or sweets. + + Of course a lot would get all smudged + By careless people's tracks, + But some would tread as I do now + Only upon the cracks. + +[Illustration: SWEEPS] + + MY nurse declares that sweeps are kind, + Without the slightest inclination + To steal away a well-dressed child + Except by nurse's invitation. + + Nurse says that children do not climb + The tall black chimneys any more; + She even says (this must be wrong) + Sweeps enter by the area door. + + But I have seen a chimney-sweep + Go whooping up and down our street; + And on his back he had a sack-- + I bet with something good to eat. + +[Illustration: GREENGROCERS] + + GREENGROCERS, greengrocers, + In your green shops, + With cabbages and cauliflowers + And tough turnip-tops. + + Mother buys daffodils, + And apples for me: + But nurse she buys radishes + To eat with her tea. + +[Illustration: CHRISTMAS NOT FAR OFF] + + NOVEMBER fogs, November fogs, + A month to Christmas day. + The world is cold and dirty, + But the muffin man is gay. + + He rings his bell, he rings his bell + All through the afternoon: + He rings his bell to let us know + That Christmas will come soon. + +[Illustration: THE DISAPPOINTMENT] + + THE Punch and Judy man's in sight, + He's coming down our street, + He's stopping just before our house-- + Shut up! I bagged that seat. + + I say, the Colonel opposite[J] + Is sending him away, + Because he says his wife is ill + And can't bear noise to-day. + +[J] He bagged our ball the other day + +[Illustration: TREASURE TROVE] + + AFTER a winter walk, it's nice + To see the baked-potato man + Poking his stove and picking out + The best potatoes from his pan. + + A baked potato on a spike + Is very like a pirate's head; + I always think of them again + Long after when I've gone to bed. + + I bought one coming home from school, + And as I turned into our street, + The lamp-posts in the yellow fog + Sailed like a wicked pirate fleet. + + And all the people in the fog + Were sailor-men upon a quay; + The pavement smelt of tar and salt: + I thought I heard quite close the sea. + + I heard a whisper as I went, + 'The Jolly Roger's at the peak'; + A bullfinch in a lighted room + Was a parrot in a far-off creek. + + The parlour-maid at Twenty-two + Was black-eyed Susan, and beyond, + The plane-tree was a cocoa-palm; + The crossing-sweeper was marooned. + + And as I got close to our house, + I was an English midshipman; + My satchel was an old sea-chest, + My copy-book a treasure-plan. + + And then a wondrous thing occurred, + The strangest thing I ever knew: + I found a shining sixpence, though + I don't suppose you'll think it true. + + I hardly dared to look at it, + Afraid that it would only prove + A bit of tin, a Bovril coin, + And not a proper treasure-trove. + + I told my brother and he thought + We'd better hide it out of sight, + In case the pirates should attack + Our bedroom on that foggy night. + + The baked potato in my coat + Was just exactly Captain Kidd; + So both of us declared at once + That there the sixpence must be hid. + + We took our sister's sailor-doll + And put his clothes upon a stick, + And spent the evening doing this + Instead of my arithmetic. + + We made a glorious cocked-hat + Of paper-painted Prussian blue, + We put the pirate on the stick, + And stuck the sixpence first with glue. + + Deep in my mother's window-box + Next day we buried Captain Kidd; + My sister never could find out + Where all her sailor-clothes were hid. + + We made a map to show the place + And wrote directions in red ink; + But when we dug the treasure up, + I dropped it down the kitchen sink. + +[Illustration: A VISIT TO MY AUNT] + + AUNT JANE with whom I sometimes stay + Has a very curious house, + As quiet as Aunt Jane herself, + As quiet as a mouse. + + It's always Autumn when I go + And raining every day: + The garden's full of shrubs and paths + I'm sent out there to play. + + The paths are green and full of moss, + The shrubs are wet and dark: + It's like a secret corner in + A sort of nightmare park. + + I walk about the paths alone + And look at roots and leaves, + And once behind a laurel bush + I saw a Pierrot's[K] sleeves. + + I thought of him that night in bed, + I was afraid he'd climb + And peep against the window-pane + And say a horrid rhyme. + + And when I heard the rain outside + Dripping upon the sill, + I thought I heard his footsteps too, + And oh, I did lie still. + +[K] Like one in my Aunt's French picture-book + + I saw his shadow dance about + Like a shadow on a sheet; + I saw his eyes, like currants black, + And his white velvet feet. + + My aunt's house is a quiet house, + The servants never speak: + She goes to sleep each afternoon: + I stay there for a week. + + The rooms have got a woolly smell, + They're full of little things-- + Tall clocks and fat blue china bowls + And birds with coloured wings. + + I tinkle all the candlesticks + Upon the mantelpiece: + They wave long after I have gone, + And never seem to cease. + + The drawing-room is full of shawls, + With footstools everywhere, + And prickly cushions stuck upright + Upon each bristly chair. + + I'm glad when I go home again + Into the shining lamps + And comfortable sound of streets, + And see my book of stamps. + +[Illustration: DON QUIXOTE] + +[Illustration: DON QUIXOTE] + + THE clock is striking four o'clock, + It is not time for tea. + Although the night is marching up + And I can hardly see. + + I'm reading in the library + In a most enormous chair; + The fire is just the very kind + That makes you want to stare. + + I'm looking at the largest book + That ever yet was seen; + They say I shall not understand + This tale till I'm fourteen. + + Don Quixote is the name of it + With pictures on each page; + The way that he was treated puts + Me in a fearful rage. + + Don Quixote was a tall thin man + Whose thoughts were just like mine, + He saw queer things, he heard queer sounds + Though he was more than nine. + + He used to lie in bed and watch + The hilly counterpane. + And see strange little knights-at-arms + Go riding down a plain. + + His room was simply crowded with + Enchanters, dwarfs and elves, + And dragons used to go to sleep + Upon the darkest shelves. + + He used to think that common things + Were really very strange, + Like me who saw a goblin once + Upon our kitchen-range. + + He saw big giants in the clouds + Marching and fighting there: + He used to listen to the leaves + And think it was a bear. + + He found some armour that belonged + To people long ago, + And rode away to fight and save + Princesses from the foe. + + But every one behaved to him + As if they were his nurse: + They said he was old-fashioned and + They said he was a curse. + + He used to play at 'let's pretend' + And charge a flock of sheep; + He used to read in bed at night + Instead of going to sleep. + + There was not anything of which + He could not make a game; + He must have been a jolly chap-- + Don Quixote was his name. + + He had adventures every day, + He simply made them come; + But all his family shook their heads + And said that he was rum. + + They burnt his books, they shut him up, + They threw enormous stones. + Some beastly fellows beat him too + And almost broke his bones. + + It makes me simply furious, + It _nearly_ makes me cry + To see him lying in the road-- + I hope he will not die. + + He did not mean to misbehave, + He wanted just to play; + Some people think my games are bad-- + They did the other day. + + A cousin came to stay with us + To see the Lord Mayor's Show, + And we were playing 'Ancient Greeks,' + A game you all must know. + + Andromeda we gave to her, + Perseus was given to me; + My kiddy brother was the beast, + The nursery floor the sea. + + We tied her to the rock with string, + The rock was Nurse's bed, + Medusa's head was Nurse's hat-- + We ruined it, she said. + + And as the floor was rather dry, + We got the water-jug, + And slooshed it all about the room + And simply sopped the rug. + + My kiddy brother was the beast, + I killed him with the poker; + My kiddy cousin screamed and yelled + As if we _meant_ to soak her. + + So we were punished just because + We played at 'let's pretend.' + Don Quixote would have understood, + He would have been our friend. + + Hullo! there goes the bell for tea; + They've lighted up the hall, + And I must go and wash my hands + And fetch Miss Perkins' shawl. + +[Illustration: THE WET DAY] + + THE wettest days in London + Are quite a jolly spree: + Our house is like an island, + The wet street like a sea. + + The rain beats on our windows + And splashes on the sill; + But the dining-room's a jungle, + The staircase is a hill. + + Our camping-ground's the nursery, + The hall's a coral-reef; + My sister's cot's a schooner, + And Nurse an Indian chief. + + Miss Perkins is a pirate, + The maids are cannibals; + They have orgies in the pantry + Unless a person calls. + + We've guns and swords and pistols, + We've several sorts of flags; + By shooting on the hillside + We've got some splendid bags. + + We found a grand volcano + Close to the servants' room, + It really was the cistern, + But it made a fearful boom. + + In all our expeditions + My brother is the crew, + I'm midshipman and captain-- + Of course it's rather few, + + But then my kiddie sister + Has _got_ to be the beasts + Which we go out a-hunting + In order to have feasts. + + Our feasts are bread and butter, + And sometimes bread and jam-- + That is, if when we're shooting + No doors are made to slam. + + The wettest days in London + Are quite a jolly spree; + And sometimes, though not often, + Our friends come in to tea. + +[Illustration: LAST WORDS] + + IF, Percy, you have money in your pocket, + For Algernon I hope you'll buy this book, + But when you've bought it, do let Algy read it, + And let your kiddy sister have a look. + + This good advice applies to you, young Godfrey, + To Wilfred and to Michael and to Claude, + To James, Guy, Basil, Archibald and Eustace, + And also to Diana, Joan and Maud. + + Philip, to you the last must be spoken; + Tell people of this book round Kensington; + Mention with kind encouragement the Author, + And get the money from your Uncle John. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kensington Rhymes, by Compton Mackenzie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KENSINGTON RHYMES *** + +***** This file should be named 39128.txt or 39128.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/1/2/39128/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif from scanned pages available at +the Internet Archive. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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