© Lindy and Martin Lovegrove 2012
Algy and the Bear
Algy met a bear.
The bear met Algy.
The bear was bulgy.
The bulge was Algy.
There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And
Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.
A grand little lad was
young Albert,
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead
'andle,
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.
They didn't think much to the Ocean:
The
waves, they were fiddlin' and small,
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded,
Fact,
nothing to laugh at at all.
So, seeking for further amusement,
They paid and went into
the Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels,
And old ale and sandwiches too.
There
were one great big Lion called Wallace;
His nose were all covered with scars -
He lay
in a somnolent posture,
With the side of his face on the bars.
Now Albert had heard
about Lions,
How they was ferocious and wild -
To see Wallace lying so peaceful,
Well,
it didn't seem right to the child.
So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showing
a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And pushed it in Wallace's
ear.
You could see that the Lion didn't like it,
For giving a kind of a roll,
He pulled
Albert inside the cage with 'im,
And swallowed the little lad 'ole.
Then Pa, who had
seen the occurrence,
And didn't know what to do next,
Said 'Mother! Yon Lion's 'et
Albert',
And Mother said 'Well, I am vexed!'
Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom -
Quite rightly,
when all's said and done -
Complained to the Animal Keeper,
That the Lion had eaten
their son.
The keeper was quite nice about it;
He said 'What a nasty mishap.
Are you
sure that it's your boy he's eaten?'
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!'
The manager
had to be sent for.
He came and he said 'What's to do?'
Pa said 'Yon Lion's 'et Albert,
'And
'im in his Sunday clothes, too.'
Then Mother said, 'Right's right, young feller;
I
think it's a shame and a sin,
For a lion to go and eat Albert,
And after we've paid
to come in.'
The manager wanted no trouble,
He took out his purse right away,
Saying
'How much to settle the matter?'
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?'
But Mother
had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone.
She said 'No!
someone's got to be summonsed' -
So that was decided upon.
Then off they went to the
P'lice Station,
In front of the Magistrate chap;
They told 'im what happened to Albert,
And
proved it by showing his cap.
The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really
to blame
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their
name.
At that Mother got proper blazing,
'And thank you, sir, kindly,' said she.
'What
waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy Lions? Not me!'
As I was going up the stair,
I met a man, who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
Oh, how I wish he'd go away.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw—
For he's the master criminal
who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For
when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's
no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His
powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity's
not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell
you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very
tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow
is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect,
his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like
a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity,
there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You
may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime's discovered,
then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And
his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's
And when the larder's
looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's
been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair
Ay, there's
the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a
Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There
may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it's useless to investigate—Macavity's
not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
It must have
been Macavity!'—but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking
of his thumb;
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity,
there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He
always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY
WASN'T THERE !
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I
might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents
for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy
Wuz he?
