treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to

mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:—


“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail.

“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!

They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?


“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be

When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!”

But the snail replied “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—

Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.

Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.

Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.


“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.

“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.

The further off from England the nearer is to France—

Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”


“Thank you, it’s a very interesting dance to watch,” said

Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: “and I do so like that

curious song about the whiting!”


“Oh, as to the whiting,” said the Mock Turtle,

“they—you’ve seen them, of course?”


“Yes,” said Alice, “I’ve often seen them at

dinn—” she checked herself hastily.


“I don’t know where Dinn may be,” said the Mock Turtle,

“but if you’ve seen them so often, of course you know what

they’re like.”


“I believe so,” Alice replied thoughtfully. “They have their

tails in their mouths—and they’re all over crumbs.”


“You’re wrong about the crumbs,” said the Mock Turtle: