Alice in Verse: The Lost Rhymes of Wonderland Read Free

most likely dreaming
    Of a tray filled with tarts and a deck full of Hearts
         Taking flight at Her Majesty’s screaming.
    ‘Clean cup!’ cried the Hatter. ‘Clean cup!’ cried the Hare.
    ‘Clean cups all around now! We’ve no cups to spare!’
    With the mouse on the doily, they shifted their chairs,
    And at once, rather coyly, did Hatter declare:
    ‘If a story is sad at the end, is it bad
         To conclude with a happy beginning?
    If apart from the start, it will tug at the heart,
         Should one start at the part that’s most winning?’

    ‘Or,’ the Hare interjected, ‘conclude at the part
         Where the tea is most gleefully flowing?
    Could a story as such ever mean quite as much
         As another not nearly worth knowing?’
    In his slumber, the Dormouse began to recite:
          ‘You must steal them all—every last one!
    We shall divvy them fairly and savour each bite!
          To the garden now! Off with you! Run!’
    ‘Such tales!’ cried the Hatter. ‘Such lies! ’ cried the Hare.
    ‘Such stories as such one should be loathe to share!’
    With the mouse still reciting, so did they repair
    To seats more inviting, and left the mouse there.
    ‘If the truth’s in the telling,’ said Hatter, ‘beware—
         For the telling of truth’s overrated!
    And no matter the lies, ’tis a far better guise
         For the one who appears less than sated!’
    ‘It is true,’ the Hare added, ‘but lest we forget:
         One should always create a diversion—
    And the one so inclined to the taste less refined
         Is so easily led to subversion!’
    In his slumber the Dormouse concurred once again,
         But before he could take up recital—
    They plied him with tea, and a thick wedge of brie,
         Which sufficed just as nice as a bridle.
    ‘More tea!’ cried the Hatter. ‘More tea!’ cried the Hare.
    ‘More tea, though you’ve had less than more of your share!’
    With his eyes shining brightly, his posture foursquare,
    And his lips curling spritely, did Hatter declare:
    ‘We’ll begin at the end and conclude at the start,
         For the start is the best place to end it,
    Like the filling you suck with a straw from a tart—
         If you haven’t, we do recommend it!’
    ‘For a tart not to start with the fine treacle paste
         Is a waste of the space that’s inside it:
    For the tart that is chaste is a terrible waste—
         And one never knows how to divide it!’
    ‘Here here!’ cried the Hatter. ‘There there!’ cried the Hare.
    ‘We’ve arrived at the end now! We’ve no time to spare!’
    With the mouse in the teapot—and one empty chair—
    Came the final recital of Hatter and Hare:





A S LIGHT D ETOUR T HROUGH THE L OOKING -G LASS
    Through the deep tulgey wood, past the long-standing wabe,
         Where the Bandersnatch bellows and preys;
    From the egg on the wall—and his subsequent fall—
         To a messenger’s poignant malaise.
    From a King’s sheer delight at his Queen’s rapid flight
         (And a bread that’s suspiciously brown)
    To a bold Crimson Knight and his counterpart White,
         And a battle of beasts for the crown.
    At the top of the hill, past the garden of buds,
         Where the flowers recite, one and all—
    Cross the checkerboard field, with its squares red and white,
         To the checkerboard floor of the hall.
    Now come to the feast where the mutton’s not least
         To be sliced or be served of the three—
    With a pudding so chatty, and fish rather natty,
         Be welcomed here thirty times three!
    With cats in the coffee and mice in the tea,
         With buttons and bran in the wine—
    With the treacle and ink that is pleasant to drink,
         So be welcomed here ninety times nine!





D EE & D UM
    ‘Shall we tell you a tale that you’ve not heard before?
    If you have, then please stop us—if not, cry for