The Glugs of Gosh | Page 7

to drown,
When floods are frothy and waters brown."
Said the Glug called Joi, "This climbing trees
Is a foolish art, and
things like these
Cause much distress in the land of Gosh.
Let's stay on the ground and
kill King Splosh!"
But Splosh, the king, he smiled a smile,
And
beckoned once to his hangman, Guile,
Who climbed a tree when the weather was calm;
And they hanged
poor Joi on a Snufflebust Palm;
Then they sang a psalm,
Did those pious Glugs 'neath the Snufflebust
Palm.
And every bee that kisses a flow'r,
And every blossom, born for an
hour,
And every bird on its gladsome flight,
All know the Glugs quite well
by sight.
For they say, "'Tis a simple test we've got:
If you know
one Glug, why, you know the lot!"
So, they climbed a tree in the bourgeoning Spring,
And they hanged
poor Joi with some second-hand string.

'Tis a horrible thing
To be hanged by Glugs with second-hand string.
Then Splosh, the king, rose up and said,
"It's not polite; but he's safer
dead.
And there's not much room in the land of Gosh
For a Glug named Joi
and a king called Splosh!"
And every Glug flung high his hat,
And
cried, "We're Glugs! and you can't change that!"
So they climbed the trees, since the weather was cold,
While the
brazen bell of the city tolled
And tolled, and told
The fate of a Glug who was over-bold.
And every cloud that sails the blue,
And every dancing sunbeam too,
And every sparkling dewdrop bright
All know the Glugs quite well
by sight.
"We tell," say they, "by a simple test;
For any old Glug is
like the rest.
And they climb the trees when there's weather about,
In a general
way, as a cure for gout;
Tho' some folks doubt
If the climbing habit is good for gout."
So Joi was hanged, and his race was run,
And the Glugs were tickled
with what they'd done.
And, after that, if a day should come
When a Glug felt extra specially
glum,
He'd call his children around his knee,
And tell that tale with
a chuckle of glee.
And should a little Glug girl or boy
See naught of a joke in the fate of
Joi,
Then he'd employ
Stern measures with such little girl or boy.

But every dawn that paints the sky,
And every splendid noontide
high,
All know the Glugs so well, so well.
'Tis an easy matter, and plain to
tell.
For, lacking wit, with a candour smug,
A Glug will boast that
he is a Glug.
And they climb the trees, if it shines or rains,
To settle the squirming
in their brains,
And the darting pains
That are caused by rushing and catching trains.
VII. THE SWANKS OF GOSH
Come mourn with me for the land of Gosh,
Oh, weep with me for the luckless Glugs
Of the land of Gosh, where
the sad seas wash
The patient shores, and the great King Splosh
His sodden sorrow hugs;
Where the fair Queen Tush weeps all the
day,
And the Swank, the Swank, the naughty Swank,
The haughty Swank holds sway--
The most mendacious, ostentatious,
Spacious Swank holds sway.
'Tis sorrow-swathed, as I know full well,
And garbed in gloom and the weeds of woe,
And vague, so far, is the
tale I tell;
But bear with me for the briefest spell,
And surely shall ye know
Of the land of Gosh, and Tush, and Splosh,
And Stodge, the Swank, the foolish Swank,

The mulish Swank of GoshThe
meretricious, avaricious,
Vicious Swank of Gosh.
Oh, the tall trees bend, and green trees send
A chuckle round the earth,
And the soft winds croon a jeering tune,
And the harsh winds shriek with mirth,
And the wee small birds chirp
ribald words
When the Swank walks down the street;
But every Glug takes off his
hat,
And whispers humbly, "Look at that!
Hats off! Hats off to the Glug of rank!
Sir Stodge, the Swank, the
Lord High Swank!"
Then the East wind roars a loud guffaw,
And
the haughty Swank says, "Haw!"
His brain is dull, and his mind is dense,
And his lack of saving wit complete;
But most amazingly immense

Is his inane self-confidence
And his innate conceit.
But every Glug, and great King Splosh
Bowed to Sir Stodge, the fuddled Swank,
The muddled Swank of Gosh--
The engineering, peeping, peering,
Sneering Swank of Gosh.
In Gosh, sad Gosh, where the Lord Swank lives,
He holds high rank, and he has much pelf;
And all the well-paid posts
he gives
Unto his fawning relatives,
As foolish as himself.
In offices and courts and boards

Are Swanks, and Swanks, ten dozen Swanks,
And cousin Swanks in hordes--
Inept and musty, dry and dusty,
Rusty Swanks in hordes.
The clouds so soft, that sail aloft,
Weep laughing tears of rain;
The blue sky spread high overhead
Peeps thro' in mild disdain.
All nature laughs and jeers and chaffs
When the Swank goes out to walk;
But every Glug bows low his head,

And says in tones surcharged with dread,
"Bow low, bow low, Glugs