The Glugs of Gosh Part 8

Nay!" cried Sir Stodge. "You must agree, If you will hark a while to me And at the Glugs' collective head He flung strange language, ages dead.

With mystic phrases from the Law, With many an old and rusty saw, With well-worn mottoes, which he took Haphazard from the copy-book, For half an hour the learned Knight Belaboured them with all his might.

And, as they wakened from their daze, Their murmurs grew to shouts of praise.

Glugs who'd reviled him overnight All in a moment saw the light.

"O learned man! 0 seer!" cried they... .

And education won the day.

Then, quickly to Sir Stodge's side There bounded, in a single stride, His Nibs of Quog; and flinging wide His arms, "O victory!" he cried.

"I'm with Sir Stodge, 0 Glugs of Gos.h.!.+

And we have won! Long live King Splos.h.!.+"

Then pointing angrily at Sym, Cried Quog, "This is the end of him!

For months I've marked his crafty dodge, To bring dishonour to Sir Stodge.

I've lured him here, the traitrous dog, And shamed him!" quoth his Nibs of Quog.

Hoots for the Tinker tore the air, As Sym went, wisely, otherwhere.

Cheers for Sir Stodge were long and loud; And, as amid his Sw.a.n.ks he bowed, To mark his thanks and honest pride, His Nibs of Quog bowed by his side.

The Thursday after that, at three, The King invited Quog to tea.

Quoth Quog, "It was a task to bilk ...

(I thank you; sugar, please, and milk) ...

To bilk this Tinker and his pranks.

A scurvy rogue! ... (Ah, two lumps, thanks.)

"A scurvy rogue!" continued Quog.

'Twas easy to outwit the dog.

Altho', perhaps, I risked my life-- I've heard he's handy with a knife.

Ah, well, 'twas for my country's sake ...

(Thanks; just one slice of currant cake.)"

XI. OGS

It chanced one day, in the middle of May, There came to the great King Splosh A policeman, who said, while scratching his head, "There isn't a stone in Gosh To throw at a dog; for the crafty Og, Last Sat.u.r.day week, at one, Took our last blue-metal, in order to settle A bill for a toy pop-gun."

Said the King, jokingly, "Why, how provokingly Weird; but we have the gun."

And the King said, "Well, we are stony-broke."

But the Queen could not see it was much of a joke.

And she said, "If the metal is all used up, Pray what of the costume I want for the Cup?

It all seems so dreadfully simple to me.

The stones? Why, import them from over the sea."

But a Glug stood up with a mole on his chin, And said, with a most diabolical grin, "Your Majesties, down in the country of Podge, A spy has discovered a very 'cute dodge.

And the Ogs are determined to wage a war On Gosh, next Friday, at half-past four."

Then the Glugs all cried, in a terrible fright, "How did our grandfathers manage a fight?"

Then the Knight, Sir Stodge, he opened his Book, And he read, "Some very large stones they took, And flung at the foe, with exceeding force; Which was very effective, tho' rude, of course."

And lo, with sorrowful wails and moans, The Glugs cried, "Where, Oh, where are the stones?"

And some rushed North, and a few ran West; Seeking the subst.i.tutes seeming best.

And they gathered the pillows and cus.h.i.+ons and rugs From the homes of the rich and middle-cla.s.s Glugs.

And a hasty message they managed to send Craving the loan of some bricks from a friend.

On the Friday, exactly at half-past four, Came the Ogs with triumphant glee.

And the first of their stones. .h.i.t poor Mister Ghones, The captain of industry.

Then a pebble of Podge took the Knight, Sir Stodge, In the curve of his convex vest.

He gurgled "Un-Gluggis.h.!.+" His heart growing sluggish, He solemnly sank to rest.

'Tis inconceivable, Scarcely believable, Yet, he was sent to rest.

And the King said, "Ouch!" And the Queen said, "0o!

My bee-ootiful drawing-room! What shall I do?"

But the warlike Ogs, they hurled great rocks Thro' the works of the wonderful eight-day clocks They had sold to the Glugs but a month before-- Which was very absurd; but, of course, 'twas war.

And the Glugs cried, "What would our grandfathers do If they hadn't the stones that they one time threw?"

But the Knight, Sir Stodge, and his mystic Book Oblivious slept in a grave-yard nook.

Then a Glug stood out with a pot in his hand, As the King was bewailing the fate of his land, And he said, "If these Ogs you desire to r.e.t.a.r.d, Then hit them quite frequent with anything hard."

So the Glugs seized anvils, and editors' chairs, And smote the Ogs with them unawares; And bottles of pickles, and clocks they threw, And books of poems, and gherkins, and glue, Which they'd bought with the stones--as, of course, you know-- From the Ogs but a couple of months ago.

Which was simply inane, when you reason it o'er; And uneconomic, but then, it was war.

When they'd fought for a night and the most of a day, The Ogs threw the last of their metal away.

Then they went back to Podge, well content with their fun, And, with much satisfaction, declared they had won.

And the King of the Glugs gazed around on his land, And saw nothing but stones strewn on every hand: Great stones in the palace, and stones in the street, And stones on the house-tops and under the feet.

And he said, with a desperate look on his face, "There is nothing so ghastly as stones out of place.

And, no doubt, this Og scheme was a very smart dodge.

But whom does it profit--my people, or Podge?"

XII. EMILY ANN

Government muddles, departments dazed, Fear and confusion wherever he gazed; Order insulted, authority spurned, Dread and distraction wherever he turned-- Oh, the great King Splosh was a sad, sore king, With never a statesman to straighten the thing.

Glus all importunate urging their claims, With selfish intent and ulterior aims, Glugs with pet.i.tions for this and for that, Standing ten-deep on the royal door-mat, Raging when n.o.body answered their ring-- Oh, the great King Splosh was a careworn king.

And he looked to the right, and he glanced to the left, And he glared at the roof like a monarch bereft Of his wisdom and wits and his wealth all in one; And, at least once a minute, asked, "What's to be done?"

But the Sw.a.n.ks stood around him and answered, with groans, "Your majesty, Gosh is half buried in stones!"

"How now?" cried the King. "Is there not in my land One Glug who can cope with this dreadful demand: A rich man, a poor man, a beggar man, thief-- I reck not his rank so he lessen my grief-- A soldier, a sailor, a--" Raising his head, With relief in his eye, "Now, I mind me!" he said.

"I mind me a Tinker, and what once befel, When I think, on the whole, he was treated not well.

But he shall be honoured, and he shall be famed If he read me this riddle. But how is he named?

Some commonplace t.i.tle, like-Simon?-No-Sym!

Go, send out my riders, and scour Gosh for him."

They rode for a day to the sea in the South, Calling the name of him, hand to the mouth.

They rode for a day to the hills in the East, But signs of a tinker saw never the least.

Then they rode to the North thro' a whole day long, And paused in the even to hark to a song.