Parodies by Lewis Carroll

Carroll wrote multiple poems and songs for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, including:

* "All in the golden afternoon..."—the prefatory verse, an original poem by Carroll that recalls the rowing expedition on which he first told the story of Alice's adventures underground
* "How Doth the Little Crocodile"— a parody of Isaac Watts' nursery rhyme, "Against Idleness And Mischief"
* "The Mouse's Tale"— an example of concrete poetry
* "You Are Old, Father William"—a parody of Robert Southey's "The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them"
* The Duchess's lullaby, "Speak roughly to your little boy..."— a parody of David Bates' "Speak Gently"
* "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat"— a parody of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"
* The Lobster Quadrille—a parody of Mary Botham Howitt's "The Spider and the Fly"
* "'Tis the Voice of the Lobster"— a parody of "The Sluggard"
* "Beautiful Soup"— a parody of James M. Sayles's "Star of the Evening, Beautiful Star"
* "The Queen of Hearts"— an actual nursery rhyme
* "They told me you had been to her..."— the White Rabbit's evidence

Lenny's Alice in Wonderland site:
http://www.alice-in-wonderland.net/books/onstage.html#originsdescription

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The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abus'd not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And pleasures with youth pass away.
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I rememberd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hast'ning away;
You are cheerful and love to converse upon death;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."

ROBERT SOUTHEY


You Are Old, Father William

"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 grey 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!"

LEWIS CARROLL

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Against Idleness and Mischief

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!

How skillfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.

ISAAC WATTS


How doth the little crocodile

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

LEWIS CARROLL
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