Mother Goose for Grownups/The Unusual Ubiquity of the Inquisitive Gander

A gander dwelt upon a farm And no one could resist him, For had he died, such was his charm, His neighbors would have missed him: His scorn for any loud display, His cheerful hissing day by day, Would win your heart in such a way You almost could have kissed him.

This bird was always nosing ’round. Most patiently he waited Until an open door he found, And then investigated. He loved to poke, he loved to peek, In every knothole, so to speak, He quickly thrust his prying beak, For what was hid he hated.

The farm exhausted: “Now,” said he: “My policy’s expansion. When one’s convinced how things should be     The proper course he can’t shun.” His mind made up, he followed it, Relying on his native wit, And soon had wandered, bit by bit, Through all his master’s mansion

“At least,” he said: “It’s not my fault If everything’s not seen to: I’ve gone from garret down to vault And glanced into the lean-to. In every room I’ve chanced to stop; A supervising glance to drop, I’ve looked below, I’ve looked on top, Behind, and in between too!”

One thing alone he found to blame, As thus his time he squandered, For, seeing not the farmer’s dame, Into her room he wandered, And mounting nimbly on the bed: “Why bless my careful soul!” he said: “These pillows are as hard as lead. Now, how comes that?” he pondered.

The farmer’s dame for half an hour Had watched the bird meander, And finding him within her power, She leaped upon the gander. “Why, how de do, my gander coy?” She shouted: “What will be my joy To dream to-night on you, my boy!” (This was no baseless slander.)

For with a stoutish piece of string Securely was this fool tied, And by a leg and by a wing Unto an oaken stool tied: While, pinning towels around her gown, She plucked him with relentless frown, And stuffed the pillows with his down, And roasted him for Yuletide.

is: When you explore Don’t try to be superior: Be cautious, and retire before Your safety grows inferior. ’Tis best to stay upon the coast, Or some day you will be like most Of all that bold exploring host That’s gone to the interior.