THE PIRATE FROG - Verse By W · A · FRISBIE - 1901

 

THE PIRATE FROG

Some boys whose names I do not know,

Went out to sail their boat one day:

Fast to her stern they tied a line

So she could not sail far away

But little did those boys suspect

That, just beyond a floating log,

With all his trusty followers,

There lay in wait the Pirate Frog.

On came the ship; out sprang the frogs

A desperate, determined crew.

They climbed aboard with reckless speed

And each one found his work to do.

One cut the line, one raised the flag,

The captain seized the helm to steer;

And thus, on peaceful Plunkett’s Pond,

Began the Pirate Frog’s career.

Upon the shore of Plunkett’s Pond

Three turtles basked beneath the sun;

’Twas afternoon, the spot was warm,

And they were dozing every one.

Their eyes were closed, they did not see

Around the point a sail appear,

Nor did they know, until too late,

The dreaded Pirate Frog was near.

The pirate crew made haste to land:

They ran to where the turtles lay,

Turned all three quickly on their backs,

Then, hoisting sail, sped fast away.

For hours the turtles strained and scratched

To turn themselves, but all in vain,

Till Mrs. Muskrat came that way

And set them right side up again.

As out of Turtle Bay he sailed,

The Pirate Frog the waters scanned,

And soon he steered his stolen ship

To catch some ducklings far from land.

Around the downy neck of one

A lasso made of cord he cast,

And, though the victim struggled hard,

The cord was strong; the knot held fast.

The other ducklings hurried home,

When this unequal fight began:

All breathlessly they told the news

To Uncle Peter Pelican.

He hurried out across the pond,

And first he cut the duckling’s cord;

Which gave the frightened pirates time

To dive to safety overboard.

Far up the shores of Plunkett’s Pond,

Within a deep and marshy bay,

Amid the rustling rushes green,

The muskrats’ cozy village lay.

Now, when the older rats were gone,

The little ratlings had no fear;

’Twould have been different had they known

The dreaded Pirate Frog was near.

But soon the pirates’ flag was seen

The town was taken by surprise.

One baby rat was caught and bound

And dragged on ship despite his cries.

But soon his bonds were gnawed apart

And he for safety scaled the mast,

His weight aloft o’erset the ship

And he laughed best for he laughed last.

’Twas in July; the sun was hot,

The pond was smooth, the air was still.

The Pirate’s vessel lay becalmed

Without a breeze the sail to fill;

But soon a plan had been devised

To move the ship without a sail:

A diving frog took down a line

And tied it ’round a bull-head’s tail.

The big fish felt a gentle tug,

Then saw the line and jumped with fright.

He tried in vain to shake it off,

And swam away with all his might.

This way and that, at race-horse speed,

He crossed the pond from side to side,

But where he went the ship went, too,

And all the frogs enjoyed the ride.

For weeks the wicked Pirate Frog

Had filled the water folk with fright;

They hid themselves throughout the day,

While few dared venture out at night.

Had he not grown too rash and bold

They might be living that way still;

But his career closed when he tried

To stop the busy water mill.

He planned to drive his stolen ship

Against the wheel and tie it fast.

Nor did he think, on starting out,

That this exploit would be his last.

Too late he saw his grave mistake,

He tried in vain to reach the shore

The pirates’ ship was ground to bits,

And Plunkett’s Pond knew them no more.

Old Daddy Longlegs sat him down

And wept in deepest woe.

“Alas!” he cried, “The summer’s gone

“And soon will come the snow.

“My children beg for warmer clothes,

“But yet I must refuse

“For each one has so many feet

“I can’t buy overshoes.”

THE HUNT FOR THE NORTHERN LIGHTS - by Lesley Elaine Greenwood

 

THE  HUNT  FOR  THE  NORTHERN  LIGHTS by  Lesley Elaine Greenwood Snowy white fox of the Arctic,was it your brush-like tailthat sprayed snow, like crystal sparks,adorning the dark sky with a shimmering veil?Are you the Northern Lights ? Flourishing forest fungi,was it your luminescent glowthat ignited fires across the frozen North,covering the woodland floor, so very long ago?Are you the Northern Lights ? Plentiful waters of Laplandwas it the light falling into your seas,that reflected back off the fishes shiny, wet scalesinto the streams of the sky ? If so please,Are you the Northern lights ? Or was it the solar winds that, colliding with earth's gasses,started to glow, creating streamers in their masses?A magnificent array of colours. Reds, greens, violets, blues,A mystical curtain of  bright celestial hues.Constantly in motion.A beautiful blaze of auroral displaysAround Heaven's swirling ocean. AURORA BOREALIS !Trailing bands of luminous  plasma,Spellbinding, magical sights.A plethora of colourful waves from the  sun.Was He the creator of the wonderfulNorthern Lights ?

HIS MAJESTY THE NATURE - PHOTOGRAPHY

 

HOW THE TURTLE SAVED HIS OWN LIFE - by Ellen C. Babbitt (from "Jataka tales")

A king once had a lake made in the courtyard for the young princes to play in. They swam about in it, and sailed their boats and rafts on it. One day the king told them he had asked the men to put some fishes into the lake.

Off the boys ran to see the fishes. Now, along with the fishes, there was a Turtle. The boys were delighted with the fishes, but they had never seen a Turtle, and they were afraid of it, thinking it was a demon. They ran back to their father, crying, "There is a demon on the bank of the lake."

The king ordered his men to catch the demon, and to bring it to the palace. When the Turtle was brought in, the boys cried and ran away.

The king was very fond of his sons, so he ordered the men who had brought the Turtle to kill it.

"How shall we kill it ?" they asked.

"Pound it to powder," said some one. "Bake it in hot coals," said another.

So one plan after another was spoken of. Then an old man who had always been afraid of the water said: "Throw the thing into the lake where it flows out over the rocks into the river. Then it will surely be killed."

When the Turtle heard what the old man said, he thrust out his head and asked: "Friend, what have I done that you should do such a dreadful thing as that to me? The other plans were bad enough, but to throw me into the lake ! Don't speak of such a cruel thing !"

When the king heard what the Turtle said, he told his men to take the Turtle at once and throw it into the lake.

The Turtle laughed to himself as he slid away down the river to his old home. "Good !" he said, "those people do not know how safe I am in the water !"

THANK YOU, DOG, HERE IS MY ANSWER: TO YOU AS A FRIEND, RESPECT ! - Artist BOB BERTRAM

Bob Bertram is an oil painter known for his stunning dog portraits, depictions of hunting scenes, and paintings of gamebirds. His style of painterly realism is distinctive and gives his paintings a spark of life and energy that makes his work stand out in the eld of sporting art.

Bob Bertram was born in Kirkwood, Missouri in 1960. As far back as he can remember he was drawing. His mother used to give him paper and a pencil and ask him to draw a picture as a way to keep him quiet and out of trouble.

Bob graduated from Springfield High School in Springfield, Illinois in 1979. In 1981 he received his Associate of Arts degree from Lincoln Land Community College.  Bob then attended Murray State for the next three years, graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree with emphasis in illustration in 1984.

Bob then worked at several advertising and promotion agencies, painting and drawing as time allowed.