Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/197

 With a snort she rears up on her hindermost heels,

And executes jigs and Virginia reels—

Words fail to explain how embarrassed one feels

Dancing so wildly to Bumpville!

It's bumpytybump and it's jiggytyjog,

Journeying on to Bumpville;

It's over the hilltop and down through the bog

You ride on your way to Bumpville;

It's rattletybang over boulder and stump,

There are rivers to ford, there are fences to jump,

And the corduroy road it goes bumpytybump,

Mile after mile to Bumpville!

Perhaps you'll observe it's no easy thing

Making the journey to Bumpville,

So I think, on the whole, it were prudent to bring

An end to this ride to Bumpville;

For, though she has uttered no protest or plaint,

The calico mare must be blowing and faint—

What's more to the point, I'm blowed if I ain't!

So play we have got to Bumpville!