And the Golden Grouse came there, And the Pobble who has no toes, And the small Olympian bear, And the Dong with a luminous nose. And the Blue Baboon who played the flute, And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute, And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat,-- All came and built on the lovely Hat Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.
And the Quangle Wangle said To himself on the Crumpetty Tree, "When all these creatures move What a wonderful noise there'll be!" And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon They danced to the Flute of the Blue Baboon, On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree, And all were as happy as happy could be, With the Quangle Wangle Quee.
She sate upon her Dobie, To watch the Evening Star, And all the Punkahs, as they passed, Cried, "My! how fair you are!" Around her bower, with quivering leaves, The tall Kamsamahs grew, And Kitmutgars in wild festoons Hung down from Tchokis blue.
Below her home the river rolled With soft meloobious sound, Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam, In myriads circling round. Above, on tallest trees remote Green Ayahs perched alone, And all night long the Mussak moan'd Its melancholy tone.
And where the purple Nullahs threw Their branches far and wide, And silvery Goreewallahs flew In silence, side by side, The little Bheesties' twittering cry Rose on the flagrant air, And oft the angry Jampan howled Deep in his hateful lair.
She sate upon her Dobie, She heard the Nimmak hum, When all at once a cry arose, "The Cummerbund is come!" In vain she fled: with open jaws The angry monster followed, And so (before assistance came) That Lady Fair was swollowed.
They sought in vain for even a bone Respectfully to bury; They said, "Hers was a dreadful fate!" (And Echo answered, "Very.") They nailed her Dobie to the wall, Where last her form was seen, And underneath they wrote these words, In yellow, blue, and green: "Beware, ye Fair! Ye Fair, beware! Nor sit out late at night, Lest horrid Cummerbunds should come, And swollow you outright."
NOTE.--First published in _Times of India_, Bombay, July, 1874.
Who, or why, or which, or _what_, Is the Akond of SWAT? Is he tall or short, or dark or fair? Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or chair, or SQUAT, The Akond of Swat?