The Minuet
by Mary Mapes Dodge (1831-1905)

Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I couldn’t doubt it,
How she danced, my Grandma danced; Long ago—
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
How she slowly leaned and rose—long ago.

Grandma’s hair was bright and sunny,
Dimpled cheeks, too, ah, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl—l ng ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet—long ago.

“Modern ways are quite alarming,”
Grandma says, “but boys were charming”
(Girls and boys, she means, of course) “long ago.”
Brave but modest, grandly shy,
She would like to have us try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet—long ago.

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Address to a Haggis
by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
            Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace
            As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
            In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
            Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
            Like onie ditch.
And then, O what a glorious sight,
            Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn they stretch an’ strive,
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
            Are bent like drums;
Then auld guidman, maist like to rive,
            Bethankit hums.

Is there that o’er his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
            Wi’ perfect scunner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
            On sic a dinner!

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
            His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bloody flood or field to dash,
            O how unfit!

But mark the rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
            He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
            Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
            That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
            Gie her a Haggis.

Glossary
sonsie: lucky, fortunate
painch: paunch
thairm: intestine
trencher: plate
hurdies: buttocks
dight: adorned, decorated
kyte: stomach, belly
rive: to split apart
scunner: dislike, aversion
nieve: fist
sned: to chop off
skink: to serve (a drink)
jaup: to splash
luggie: a kind of large drinking vessel

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If I Were King
by A.A. Milne (1882-1956)

I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.

If only I were King of Spain,
I’d take my hat off in the rain.

If only I were King of France,
I wouldn’t brush my hair for aunts.

I think, if I were King of Greece,
I’d push things off the mantelpiece.

If I were King of Norroway,
I’d ask an elephant to stay.

If I were King of Babylon,
I’d leave my button gloves undone.

If I were King of Timbuctoo,
I’d think of lovely things to do.

If I were King of anything,
I’d tell the soldiers, “I’m the King!”

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Father William
by Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson (1832-1898)

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
      “And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
      Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
      “I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
      Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
      And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
      Pray, what is the reason of that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
      “I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
      Allow me to sell you a couple.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
      For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak:
      Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
      And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw
      Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth; “one would hardly suppose
      That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
      What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
      Said his father, “don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
      Be off, or I’ll kick you down-stairs!”

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