Higgins and Miggins
Old Brother Higgins built a shelf
for the family bible to rest itself
lest a sticky finger or grimy thumb
might injure the delicate pages some.
He cautioned his children to touch it not
and it rested there with never a blot
though the Higgins tribe were a troublesome lot.
His neighbor, Miggins, built a shelf
"Come children," he said, "and help yourself."
His book is old and ragged and worn,
with some of the choicest pages torn,
where children have fingered and thumbed and read.
But of the Miggins tribe I've heard it said,
each carries a bible in his head.
-unknown
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
By William Brighty Rands
No doubt you have heard the name before - Was a boy who never would shut a door!
The wind might whistle, the wind might roar, And teeth be aching and throats be sore,
But still he never would shut the door.
His father would beg, his mother implore, "Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
We really do wish you would shut the door!" Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore; But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.
When he walked forth the folks would roar, "Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
Why don't you think to shut the door?" They rigged up a Shutter with sail and oar, And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore On a voyage of penance to Singapore.
But he begged for mercy and said, "No more! Pray do not send me to Singapore
On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!" "You will?" said his parents;
"then keep on shore! But mind you do!
For the plague is sore
Of a fellow that never will shut the door, Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!"
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts...
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall...
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late...
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
-Shel Silverstein