If -- and the thing is
wildly possible -- the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the
author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced,
on the line (in p.4)
"Then the bowsprit
got mixed with the rudder sometimes."
In view of this painful
possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal indignantly to my other writings as
a proof that I am incapable of such a deed: I will not (as I might) point to
the strong moral purpose of this poem itself, to the arithmetical principles so
cautiously inculcated in it, or to its noble teachings in Natural History -- I
will take the more prosaic course of simply explaining how it happened.
The Bellman, who was
almost morbidly sensitive about appearances, used to have the bowsprit
unshipped once or twice a week to be revarnished, and it more than once
happened, when the time came for replacing it, that no one on board could
remember which end of the ship it belonged to. They knew it was not of the
slightest use to appeal to the Bellman about it -- he would only refer to his
Naval Code, and read out in pathetic tones Admiralty Instructions which none of
them had ever been able to understand -- so it generally ended in its being
fastened on, anyhow, across the rudder. The helmsman used to stand by with
tears in his eyes; he knew it was all wrong, but alas! Rule 42 of the Code,
"No one shall speak to the Man at the Helm," had been completed by
the Bellman himself with the words "and the Man at the Helm shall speak to
no one." So remonstrance was impossible, and no steering could be done
till the next varnishing day. During these bewildering intervals the ship
usually sailed backwards.
As this poem is to some
extent connected with the lay of the Jabberwock, let me take this opportunity
of answering a question that has often been asked me, how to pronounce
"slithy toves." The "i" in "slithy" is long, as
in "writhe"; and "toves" is pronounced so as to rhyme with
"groves." Again, the first "o" in "borogoves" is
pronounced like the "o" in "borrow." I have heard people
try to give it the sound of the "o" in "worry." Such is
Human Perversity.
This also seems a
fitting occasion to notice the other hard words in that poem. Humpty-Dumpty’s
theory, of two meanings packed into one word like a portmanteau, seems to me
the right explanation for all.
For instance, take the
two words "fuming" and "furious." Make up your mind that
you will say both words, but leave it unsettled which you will say first. Now
open your mouth and speak. If your thoughts incline ever so little towards
"fuming," you will say "fuming-furious;" if they turn, by
even a hair’s breadth, towards "furious," you will say
"furious-fuming;" but if you have the rarest of gifts, a perfectly
balanced mind, you will say "frumious."
Supposing that, when
Pistol uttered the well-known words --
"Under which king,
Bezonian? Speak or die!"
Justice Shallow had
felt certain that it was either William or Richard, but had not been able to
settle which, so that he could not possibly say either name before the other,
can it be doubted that, rather than die, he would have gasped out
"Rilchiam!"
"Just the place
for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew
with care;
Supporting each man on
the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in
his hair.
"Just the place
for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should
encourage the crew.
Just the place for a
Snark! I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three
times is true."
The crew was complete:
it included a Boots --
A maker of Bonnets and
Hoods --
A Barrister, brought to
arrange their disputes --
And a Broker, to value
their goods.
A Billiard-marker,
whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won
more than his share --
But a Banker, engaged
at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their
cash in his care.
There was also a
Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making
lace in the bow:
And had often (the
Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the
sailors knew how.
There was one who was
famed for the number of things
He forgot when he
entered the ship:
His umbrella, his
watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had
bought for the trip.
He had forty-two boxes,
all carefully packed,
With his name painted
clearly on each:
But, since he omitted
to mention the fact,
They were all left
behind on the beach.
The loss of his clothes
hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on
when he came,
With three pairs of
boots -- but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten
his name.
He would answer to "Hi!" or
to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry
me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To
"What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But especially
"Thing-um-a-jig!"
While, for those who
preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names
from these:
His intimate friends
called him "Candle-ends,"
And his enemies
"Toasted-cheese."
"His form is
ungainly -- his intellect small -- "
(So the Bellman would
often remark)
"But his courage
is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one
needs with a Snark."
He would joke with
hyenas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of
the head:
And he once went a
walk, paw-in-paw, with a bear,
"Just to keep up
its spirits," he said.
He came as a Baker: but
owned, when too late --
And it drove the poor
Bellman half-mad --
He could only bake
Bridecake -- for which, I may state,
No materials were to be
had.
The last of the crew
needs especial remark,
Though he looked an
incredible dunce:
He had just one idea --
but, that one being "Snark,"
The good Bellman
engaged him at once.
He came as a Butcher:
but gravely declared,
When the ship had been
sailing a week,
He could only kill
Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too
frightened to speak:
But at length he
explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was only one
Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one
he had of his own,
Whose death would be
deeply deplored.
The Beaver, who
happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears
in its eyes,
That not even the
rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that
dismal surprise!
It strongly advised
that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate
ship:
But the Bellman
declared that would never agree
With the plans he had
made for the trip:
Navigation was always a
difficult art,
Though with only one
ship and one bell:
And he feared he must
really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as
well.
The Beaver’s best
course was, no doubt, to procure
A second-hand
dagger-proof coat --
So the Baker advised it
-- and next, to insure
Its life in some Office
of note:
This the Banker
suggested, and offered for hire
(On moderate terms), or
for sale,
Two excellent Policies,
one Against Fire,
And one Against Damage
From Hail.
Yet still, ever after
that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher
was by,
The Beaver kept looking
the opposite way,
And appeared
unaccountably shy.
The Bellman himself
they all praised to the skies --
Such a carriage, such
ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too!
One could see he was wise,
The moment one looked
in his face!
He had bought a large
map representing the sea,
Without the least
vestige of land:
And the crew were much
pleased when they found it to be
A map they could all
understand.
"What’s the good
of Mercator’s North Poles and Equators,
Tropics, Zones, and
Meridian Lines?"
So the Bellman would
cry: and the crew would reply
"They are merely
conventional signs!
"Other maps are
such shapes, with their islands and capes!
But we’ve got our brave
Captain to thank:"
(So the crew would
protest) "that he’s bought us the best --
A perfect and absolute
blank!"
This was charming, no doubt; but they
shortly found out
That the Captain they
trusted so well
Had only one notion for
crossing the ocean,
And that was to tingle
his bell.
He was thoughtful and
grave -- but the orders he gave
Were enough to bewilder
a crew.
When he cried
"Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!"
What on earth was the
helmsman to do?
Then the bowsprit got
mixed with the rudder sometimes:
A thing, as the Bellman
remarked,
That frequently happens
in tropical climes,
When a vessel is, so to
speak, "snarked."
But the principal
failing occurred in the sailing,
And the Bellman,
perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at
least, when the wind blew due East,
That the ship would not
travel due West!
But the danger was past
-- they had landed at last,
With their boxes,
portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the
crew were not pleased with the view,
Which consisted to
chasms and crags.
The Bellman perceived
that their spirits were low,
And repeated in musical
tone
Some jokes he had kept
for a season of woe --
But the crew would do
nothing but groan.
He served out some grog
with a liberal hand,
And bade them sit down
on the beach:
And they could not but
own that their Captain looked grand,
As he stood and
delivered his speech.
"Friends, Romans,
and countrymen, lend me your ears!"
(They were all of them
fond of quotations:
So they drank to his
health, and they gave him three cheers,
While he served out
additional rations).
"We have sailed
many months, we have sailed many weeks,
(Four weeks to the
month you may mark),
But never as yet (’tis
your Captain who speaks)
Have we caught the
least glimpse of a Snark!
"We have sailed
many weeks, we have sailed many days,
(Seven days to the week
I allow),
But a Snark, on the
which we might lovingly gaze,
We have never beheld
till now!
"Come, listen, my
men, while I tell you again
The five unmistakable
marks
By which you may know,
wheresoever you go,
The warranted genuine
Snarks.
"Let us take them
in order. The first is the taste,
Which is meager and
hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is
rather too tight in the waist,
With a flavor of
Will-o-the-wisp.
"Its habit of
getting up late you’ll agree
That it carries too
far, when I say
That it frequently
breakfasts at five-o’clock tea,
And dines on the
following day.
"The third is its
slowness in taking a jest.
Should you happen to
venture on one,
It will sigh like a
thing that is deeply distressed:
And it always looks
grave at a pun.
"The fourth is its
fondness for bathing-machines,
Which it constantly
carries about,
And believes that they
add to the beauty of scenes --
A sentiment open to
doubt.
"The fifth is
ambition. It next will be right
To describe each
particular batch:
Distinguishing those
that have feathers, and bite,
And those that have
whiskers, and scratch.
"For, although
common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet, I feel it my duty
to say,
Some are Boojums --
" The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had
fainted away.
They roused him with
muffins -- they roused him with ice --
They roused him with
mustard and cress --
They roused him with
jam and judicious advice --
They set him conundrums
to guess.
When at length he sat
up and was able to speak,
His sad story he
offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried
"Silence! Not even a shriek!"
And excitedly tingled
his bell.
There was silence
supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or
a groan,
As the man they called
"Ho!" told his story of woe
In an antediluvian
tone.
"My father and
mother were honest, though poor -- "
"Skip all
that!" cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once
becomes dark, there’s no chance of a Snark --
We have hardly a minute
to waste!"
"I skip forty
years," said the Baker, in tears,
"And proceed
without further remark
To the day when you
took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting
the Snark.
"A dear uncle of
mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade
him farewell -- "
"Oh, skip your
dear uncle!" the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled
his bell.
"He remarked to me
then," said that mildest of men,
"‘If your Snark be
a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all
means -- you may serve it with greens,
And it’s handy for
striking a light.
"‘You may seek it
with thimbles -- and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with
forks and hope;
You may threaten its
life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with
smiles and soap -- ’"
("That’s exactly
the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis
cried,
"That’s exactly
the way I have always been told
That the capture of
Snarks should be tried!")
"‘But oh, beamish
nephew, beware of the day,
If your Snark be a
Boojum! For then
You will softly and
suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!’
"It is this, it is this that
oppresses my soul,
When I think of my
uncle’s last words:
And my heart is like
nothing so much as a bowl
Brimming over with
quivering curds!
"It is this, it is
this -- " "We have had that before!"
The Bellman indignantly
said.
And the Baker replied
"Let me say it once more.
It is this, it is this
that I dread!
"I engage with the
Snark -- every night after dark --
In a dreamy delirious
fight:
I serve it with greens
in those shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking
a light:
"But if ever I
meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I
am sure),
I shall softly and
suddenly vanish away --
And the notion I cannot
endure!"
The Bellman looked
uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
"If only you’d
spoken before!
It’s excessively
awkward to mention it now,
With the Snark, so to
speak, at the door!
"We should all of
us grieve, as you well may believe,
If you never were met
with again --
But surely, my man,
when the voyage began,
You might have
suggested it then?
"It’s excessively
awkward to mention it now --
As I think I’ve already
remarked."
And the man they called
"Hi!" replied, with a sigh,
"I informed you
the day we embarked.
"You may charge me
with murder -- or want of sense --
(We are all of us weak
at times):
But the slightest
approach to a false pretense
Was never among my
crimes!
"I said it in
Hebrew -- I said it in Dutch --
I said it in German and
Greek:
But I wholly forgot
(and it vexes me much)
That English is what
you speak!"
"’Tis a pitiful
tale," said the Bellman, whose face
Had grown longer at
every word:
"But, now that you’ve
stated the whole of your case,
More debate would be
simply absurd.
"The rest of my
speech" (he explained to his men)
"You shall hear
when I’ve leisure to speak it.
But the Snark is at
hand, let me tell you again!
’Tis your glorious duty
to seek it!
"To seek it with
thimbles, to seek it with care;
To pursue it with forks
and hope;
To threaten its life
with a railway-share;
To charm it with smiles
and soap!
"For the Snark’s a peculiar
creature, that won’t
Be caught in a
commonplace way.
Do all that you know,
and try all that you don’t:
Not a chance must be
wasted to-day!
"For England
expects -- I forbear to proceed:
’Tis a maxim
tremendous, but trite:
And you’d best be
unpacking the things that you need
To rig yourselves out
for the fight."
Then the Banker
endorsed a blank check (which he crossed),
And changed his loose
silver for notes.
The Baker with care
combed his whiskers and hair,
And shook the dust out
of his coats.
The Boots and the
Broker were sharpening a spade --
Each working the
grindstone in turn:
But the Beaver went on
making lace, and displayed
No interest in the
concern:
Though the Barrister
tried to appeal to its pride,
And vainly proceeded to
cite
A number of cases, in
which making laces
Had been proved an
infringement of right.
The maker of Bonnets
ferociously planned
A novel arrangement of
bows:
While the
Billiard-marker with quivering hand
Was chalking the tip of
his nose.
But the Butcher turned
nervous, and dressed himself fine,
With yellow kid gloves
and a ruff --
Said he felt it exactly
like going to dine,
Which the Bellman
declared was all "stuff."
"Introduce me, now
there’s a good fellow," he said,
"If we happen to
meet it together!"
And the Bellman,
sagaciously nodding his head,
Said "That must
depend on the weather."
The Beaver went simply
galumphing about,
At seeing the Butcher
so shy:
And even the Baker,
though stupid and stout,
Made an effort to wink
with one eye.
"Be a man!"
said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
The Butcher beginning
to sob.
"Should we meet
with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,
We shall need all our
strength for the job!"
They sought it with
thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with
forks and hope;
They threatened its
life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with
smiles and soap.
Then the Butcher
contrived an ingenious plan
For making a separate
sally;
And fixed on a spot
unfrequented by man,
A dismal and desolate
valley.
But the very same plan
to the Beaver occurred:
It had chosen the very
same place:
Yet neither betrayed,
by a sign or a word,
The disgust that
appeared in his face.
Each thought he was
thinking of nothing but "Snark"
And the glorious work
of the day;
And each tried to
pretend that he did not remark
That the other was
going that way.
But the valley grew
narrow and narrower still,
And the evening got
darker and colder,
Till (merely from
nervousness, not from goodwill)
They marched along
shoulder to shoulder.
Then a scream, shrill
and high, rent the shuddering sky,
And they knew that some
danger was near:
The Beaver turned pale
to the tip of its tail,
And even the Butcher
felt queer.
He thought of his
childhood, left far far behind --
That blissful and
innocent state --
The sound so exactly
recalled to his mind
A pencil that squeaks
on a slate!
"’Tis the voice of
the Jubjub!" he suddenly cried.
(This man, that they
used to call "Dunce.")
"As the Bellman
would tell you," he added with pride,
"I have uttered
that sentiment once.
"’Tis the note of
the Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat;
You will find I have
told it you twice.
’Tis the song of the
Jubjub! The proof is complete,
If only I’ve stated it
thrice."
The Beaver had counted
with scrupulous care,
Attending to every
word:
But it fairly lost
heart, and outgrabe in despair,
When the third
repetition occurred.
It felt that, in spite
of all possible pains,
It had somehow
contrived to lose count,
And the only thing now
was to rack its poor brains
By reckoning up the
amount.
"Two added to one
-- if that could but be done,"
It said, "with one’s
fingers and thumbs!"
Recollecting with tears
how, in earlier years,
It had taken no pains
with its sums.
"The thing can be
done," said the Butcher, "I think.
The thing must be done,
I am sure.
The thing shall be
done! Bring me paper and ink,
The best there is time
to procure."
The Beaver brought
paper, portfolio, pens,
And ink in unfailing
supplies:
While strange creepy
creatures came out of their dens,
And watched them with wondering
eyes.
So engrossed was the Butcher, he
heeded them not,
As he wrote with a pen
in each hand,
And explained all the
while in a popular style
Which the Beaver could
well understand.
"Taking Three as
the subject to reason about --
A convenient number to
state --
We add Seven, and Ten,
and then multiply out
By One Thousand
diminished by Eight.
"The result we
proceed to divide, as you see,
By Nine Hundred and
Ninety Two:
Then subtract
Seventeen, and the answer must be
Exactly and perfectly
true.
"The method
employed I would gladly explain,
While I have it so
clear in my head,
If I had but the time
and you had but the brain --
But much yet remains to
be said.
"In one moment I’ve
seen what has hitherto been
Enveloped in absolute
mystery,
And without extra
charge I will give you at large
A Lesson in Natural
History."
In his genial way he
proceeded to say
(Forgetting all laws of
propriety,
And that giving
instruction, without introduction,
Would have caused quite
a thrill in Society),
"As to temper the
Jubjub’s a desperate bird,
Since it lives in
perpetual passion:
Its taste in costume is
entirely absurd --
It is ages ahead of the
fashion:
"But it knows any
friend it has met once before:
It never will look at a
bribe:
And in charity-meetings
it stands at the door,
And collects -- though
it does not subscribe.
" Its flavor when
cooked is more exquisite far
Than mutton, or
oysters, or eggs:
(Some think it keeps
best in an ivory jar,
And some, in mahogany
kegs:)
"You boil it in
sawdust: you salt it in glue:
You condense it with
locusts and tape:
Still keeping one
principal object in view --
To preserve its
symmetrical shape."
The Butcher would
gladly have talked till next day,
But he felt that the
lesson must end,
And he wept with
delight in attempting to say
He considered the
Beaver his friend.
While the Beaver
confessed, with affectionate looks
More eloquent even than
tears,
It had learned in ten
minutes far more than all books
Would have taught it in
seventy years.
They returned
hand-in-hand, and the Bellman, unmanned
(For a moment) with
noble emotion,
Said "This amply
repays all the wearisome days
We have spent on the
billowy ocean!"
Such friends, as the
Beaver and Butcher became,
Have seldom if ever
been known;
In winter or summer, ’twas
always the same --
You could never meet
either alone.
And when quarrels arose
-- as one frequently finds
Quarrels will, spite of
every endeavor --
The song of the Jubjub
recurred to their minds,
And cemented their
friendship for ever!
They sought it with
thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with
forks and hope;
They threatened its
life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with
smiles and soap.
But the Barrister,
weary of proving in vain
That the Beaver’s
lace-making was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in
dreams saw the creature quite plain
That his fancy had
dwelt on so long.
He dreamed that he
stood in a shadowy Court,
Where the Snark, with a
glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands,
and wig, was defending a pig
On the charge of
deserting its sty.
The Witnesses proved,
without error or flaw,
That the sty was
deserted when found:
And the Judge kept
explaining the state of the law
In a soft under-current
of sound.
The indictment had
never been clearly expressed,
And it seemed that the
Snark had begun,
And had spoken three
hours, before any one guessed
What the pig was supposed
to have done.
The Jury had each
formed a different view
(Long before the
indictment was read),
And they all spoke at
once, so that none of them knew
One word that the
others had said.
"You must know -- -" said
the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed "Fudge!"
That statute is
obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my
friends, the whole question depends
On an ancient manorial
right.
"In the matter of
Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but
scarcely abetted:
While the charge of
Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea ‘never
indebted.’
"The fact of
Desertion I will not dispute;
But its guilt, as I
trust, is removed
(So far as related to
the costs of this suit)
By the Alibi which has
been proved.
"My poor client’s
fate now depends on your votes."
Here the speaker sat
down in his place,
And directed the Judge
to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up
the case.
But the Judge said he
never had summed up before;
So the Snark undertook
it instead,
And summed it so well
that it came to far more
Than the Witnesses ever
had said!
When the verdict was
called for, the Jury declined,
As the word was so
puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to
hope that the Snark wouldn’t mind
Undertaking that duty
as well.
So the Snark found the
verdict, although, as it owned,
It was spent with the
toils of the day:
When it said the word
"GUILTY!" the Jury all groaned,
And some of them
fainted away.
Then the Snark
pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
Too nervous to utter a
word:
When it rose to its
feet, there was silence like night,
And the fall of a pin
might be heard.
"Transportation
for life" was the sentence it gave,
"And then to be
fined forty pound."
The Jury all cheered,
though the Judge said he feared
That the phrase was not
legally sound.
But their wild
exultation was suddenly checked
When the jailer
informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would
have not the slightest effect,
As the pig had been
dead for some years.
The Judge left the
Court, looking deeply disgusted:
But the Snark, though a
little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom
the defense was entrusted,
Went bellowing on to
the last.
Thus the Barrister
dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
To grow every moment
more clear:
Till he woke to the
knell of a furious bell,
Which the Bellman rang
close at his ear.
They sought it with
thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with
forks and hope;
They threatened its
life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with
smiles and soap.
And the Banker,
inspired with a courage so new
It was matter for
general remark,
Rushed madly ahead and
was lost to their view
In his zeal to discover
the Snark
But while he was
seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly
drew nigh
And grabbed at the
Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was
useless to fly.
He offered large
discount -- he offered a check
(Drawn "to
bearer") for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch
merely extended its neck
And grabbed at the
Banker again.
Without rest or pause
-- while those frumious jaws
Went savagely snapping
around --
He skipped and he
hopped, and he floundered and flopped,
Till fainting he fell
to the ground.
The Bandersnatch fled
as the others appeared
Led on by that
fear-stricken yell:
And the Bellman
remarked "It is just as I feared!"
And solemnly tolled on
his bell.
He was black in the
face, and they scarcely could trace
The least likeness to
what he had been:
While so great was his
fright that his waistcoat turned white --
A wonderful thing to be
seen!
To the horror of all who were present
that day.
He uprose in full
evening dress,
And with senseless
grimaces endeavored to say
What his tongue could
no longer express.
Down he sank in a chair
-- ran his hands through his hair --
And chanted in mimsiest
tones
Words whose utter
inanity proved his insanity,
While he rattled a
couple of bones.
"Leave him here to
his fate -- it is getting so late!"
The Bellman exclaimed
in a fright.
"We have lost half
the day. Any further delay,
And we shan’t catch a
Snark before night!"
They sought it with
thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with
forks and hope;
They threatened its
life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with
smiles and soap.
They shuddered to think
that the chase might fail,
And the Beaver, excited
at last,
Went bounding along on
the tip of its tail,
For the daylight was
nearly past.
"There is
Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said,
"He is shouting
like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands,
he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found
a Snark!"
They gazed in delight,
while the Butcher exclaimed
"He was always a
desperate wag!"
They beheld him --
their Baker -- their hero unnamed --
On the top of a
neighboring crag.
Erect and sublime, for
one moment of time.
In the next, that wild
figure they saw
(As if stung by a
spasm) plunge into a chasm,
While they waited and
listened in awe.
"It’s a
Snark!" was the sound that first came to their ears,
And seemed almost too
good to be true.
Then followed a torrent
of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words
"It’s a Boo-"
Then, silence. Some
fancied they heard in the air
A weary and wandering
sigh
Then sounded like
"-jum!" but the others declare
It was only a breeze
that went by.
They hunted till darkness came on,
but they found
Not a button, or
feather, or mark,
By which they could
tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met
with the Snark.
In the midst of the
word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his
laughter and glee,
He had softly and
suddenly vanished away -- -
For the Snark was a
Boojum, you see.
THE
END