"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, From 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. Fit the Third The Baker's Tale 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
"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, From 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. Fit the Third The Baker's Tale 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
hunting-of-the-snark.docx