Said Chocolate Drop the Barber,
"Why, bless my ugly soul!
I'll ask that stick of peppermint
To be my Barber pole."
"Dear, sweet Lady Cracker,
My passions you know."
"And I scorn them, Judge Wafer,
As you're lacking in dough."
"What is the use?" quoth the Whitewash Brush,
"I'll comb my hair no more;
For try as I will to make it lie,
It still stays pompadour."
A lettuce walking out one day,
Lost his head, so lost his way;
A Pumpkin happened on the scene,
And said it came from being green.
Old Mr. Match gave his head a good scratch,
And his face lighted up with a smile;
"It is getting quite dark, but with my cheery spark
I will lengthen the day for awhile."
"Alas! I fear my mind doth wander.
As o'er this narrative I ponder;
I usually know what I have read,
But this time I have lost the Thread."
The Pocketbook has money,
On that subject he is daft;
But when one strikes him for a loan
He answers, "I am strapped."
"Shine?" inquired the Monkey Wrench
Of Stately Doctor Key;
"No!" replied that haughty soul.
"No Monkey-shines for me."
Mr. Brush on his steed, dashing with speed,
Was asked if he had time to spare;
Said he, with a smile, "I'll be back in a while,
But at present I'm hunting the hair."
"Dr. Yeast-Cake, it's hard for me to speak,
As I haven't risen for more than a week."
"Take this, Mr. Roll, and never you fear;
You'll rise before morning, so be of good cheer."
Pilot Von Pretzel's a crusty old salt
Who wears a rich shade of tan;
Which he did not acquire at sea, by the way,
But in a warm baking-pan.
Said young Mr. Pumpkin,
To old Mr. Squash,
"Do you think Mr. Corn overhears
What we say when we talk
Of his self-conscious stalk,
And his moving Miss Melon to tears?"
"I cannot decide,"
Mr. Squash then replied,
"But I've had my suspicions for years;
Because he's so tall
He can lean over all;
Then look at the size of his ears."
"There go the Scissor twins.
Cutting as ever.
Some think them sharp.
But few think them clever."
"I dread you much, my little miss,
You're such a dainty thing,
I fear although quite sharp myself,
You've got me on the string."
"Now, my pretty little dears,
Little Pitchers have big ears;
But never let me hear it said
That your mouths are big instead."
Old Mr. Hammer
Was so very, very good,
That he gave Mr. Shingle Nail
A drive through the wood.
When poor little Hand-Glass
Was loudly berated
For casting reflections,
The Brush was elated.
There was a Pen in our town
And he was wondrous wise;
He knew just when to cross his T's
And when to dot his I's;
But one small thing he did not know,
A simple thing at that;
He did not know 'twas nice to wipe
His feet off, on the mat.
