Lewis Carroll’s “Misunderstandings”


If such a thing had been my thought,

I should have told you so before,

But as I didn’t, then you ought

To ask for such a thing no more,

For to teach one who has been taught

Is always thought an awful bore


Now to commence my argument.

I shall premise an observation,

On which the greatest kings have leant

When striving to subdue a nation.

And e’en the wretch who pays no rent

by it can solve a hard equation.


Its truth is such, the force of reason

Can not avail to shake its power,

Yet e’en the sun in summer season

Doth not dispel so mild a shower

As this, and he who sees it, sees on

Beyond it to a sunny bower–

No more, when ignorance is treason,

Let wisdom’s brows be cold and sour


For new fairy tales and poems every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog! Also The Prince of Prophecy Vol. II: Cursed will be launching in eBook format this Saturday (November 29th, 2014), so be sure to check it out!


Lewis Carroll’s “Rules and Regulations”


A short direction
To avoid dejection,
By variations
In occupations,
And prolongation
Of relaxation,
And combinations
Of recreations,
And disputation
On the state of the nation
In adaptation
To your station,
By invitations
To friends and relations,
By evitation
Of amputation,
By permutation
In conversation,
And deep reflection
You’ll avoid dejection.

Learn well your grammar,
And never stammer,
Write well and neatly,
And sing most sweetly,
Be enterprising,
Love early rising,
Go walk of six miles,
Have ready quick smiles,
With lightsome laughter,
Soft flowing after.
Drink tea, not coffee;
Never eat toffy.
Eat bread with butter.
Once more, don’t stutter.

Don’t waste your money,
Abstain from honey.
Shut doors behind you,
(Don’t slam them, mind you.)
Drink beer, not porter.
Don’t enter the water
Till to swim you are able.
Sit close to the table.
Take care of a candle.
Shut a door by the handle,
Don’t push with your shoulder
Until you are older.
Lose not a button.
Refuse cold mutton.
Starve your canaries.
Believe in fairies.
If you are able,
Don’t have a stable
With any mangers.
Be rude to strangers.

Moral: Behave.


I really like this poem, and I hope you enjoyed it too! For new fairy tale/poem updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “Facts”


WERE I to take an iron gun,

And fire it off towards the sun;

I grant ‘twould reach its mark at last,

But not till many years had passed.


But should that bullet change its force,

And to the planets take its course,

‘Twould never reach the nearest star,

Because it is so very far.


For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “Brother and Sister”


“Sister, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head.”
Thus the prudent brother said.

“Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?”
Thus his sister calm replied.

“Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I’d make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth”

The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, “Only try!”

Off to the cook he quickly ran.
“Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can.”

And wherefore should I lend it you?”
“The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew.”

“What meat is in that stew to go?”
“My sister’ll be the contents!”
“You’ll lend the pan to me, Cook?”

MORAL: Never stew your sister.


That’s a very good moral–I’ll have to remember that. For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!


Lewis Carroll’s “Melodies”


THERE was an old farmer of Readall,

Who made holes in his face with a needle,

Then went far deeper in

Than to pierce through the skin,

And yet strange to say he was made beadle.

There was an eccentric old draper,

Who wore a hat made of brown paper,

It went up to a point,

Yet it looked out of joint,

The cause of which he said was “vapour”.

There was once a young man of Oporta,

Who daily got shorter and shorter,

The reason he said

Was the hod on his head,

Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
His sister, named Lucy O’Finner,

Grew constantly thinner and thinner;

The reason was plain,

She slept out in the rain,

And was never allowed any dinner.


For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “Punctuality”


Man naturally loves delay,

And to procrastinate;

Business put off from day to day

Is always done too late.


Let every hour be in its place

Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,

And well enjoy the vacant space,

As though a birthday gift.


And when the hour arrives, be there,

Where’er that “there” may be;

Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair

Let no one ever see.


If dinner at “half-past” be placed,

At “half-past” then be dressed.

If at a “quarter-past” make haste

to be down with the rest.


Better to be before your time,

Than e’er to be behind;

To open the door while strikes the chime,

That shows a punctual mind.



Let punctuality and care,

Seize every flitting hour,

So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,

E’en from a fading flower.


For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “My Fairy”


I have a fairy by my side

Which says I must not sleep,

When once in pain I loudly cried

It said “You must not weep”.


If, full of mouth, I smile and grin,

It says “You must not laugh”;

When once I wished to drink some gin

It said “You must not quaff”.


When once a meal I wished to taste

It said “You must not bite”;

When to the wars I went in haste

It said “You must not fight”.


“What may I do?” at length I cried,

Tired of the painful task.

The fairy quietly replied,

And said “You must not ask”.


Moral: “You mustn’t.”


For new fantasy and fairy tales updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “The Hunting of the Snark”


Fit the First
The Landing

“Just the place for a Snark!” the Bellman cried,
   As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
   By a finger entwined in his hair.

“Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
   That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
   What I tell you three times is true.”

The crew was complete: it included a Boots—
   A maker of Bonnets and Hoods—
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—
   And a Broker, to value their goods.

A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,
   Might perhaps have won more than his share—
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
   Had the whole of their cash in his care.

There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
   Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
   Though none of the sailors knew how.

There was one who was famed for the number of things
   He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
   And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
   With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
   They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
   He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,
   He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry,
   Such as “Fry me!” or “Fritter my wig!”
To “What-you-may-call-um!” or “What-was-his-name!”
   But especially “Thing-um-a-jig!”

While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
   He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him “Candle-ends,”
   And his enemies “Toasted-cheese.”

“His form in ungainly—his intellect small—”
   (So the Bellman would often remark)
“But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
   Is the thing that one needs with a Snark.”

He would joke with hænas, returning their stare
   With an impudent wag of the head:
And he once went a walk, paw-in-paw, with a bear,
   “Just to keep up its spirits,” he said.

He came as a Baker: but owned, when too late—
   And it drove the poor Bellman half-mad—
He could only bake Bride-cake—for which, I may state,
   No materials were to be had.

The last of the crew needs especial remark,
   Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one idea—but, that one being “Snark,”
   The good Bellman engaged him at once.

He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
   When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
   And was almost too frightened to speak:

But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
   There was only one Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one he had of his own,
   Whose death would be deeply deplored.

The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
   Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
   Could atone for that dismal surprise!

It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
   Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
   With the plans he had made for the trip:

Navigation was always a difficult art,
   Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
   Undertaking another as well.

The Beaver’s best course was, no doubt, to procure
   A second-hand dagger-proof coat—
So the Baker advised it—and next, to insure
   Its life in some Office of note:

This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire
   (On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire,
   And one Against Damage From Hail.

Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
   Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
   And appeared unaccountably shy.
Fit the Second
The Bellman’s Speech

The Bellman himself they all praised to the skies—
   Such a carriage, such ease and such grace!
Such solemnity, too! One could see he was wise,
   The moment one looked in his face!

He had bought a large map representing the sea,
   Without the least vestige of land:
And the crew were much pleased when they found it to be
   A map they could all understand.

“What’s the good of Mercator’s North Poles and Equators,
   Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines?”
So the Bellman would cry: and the crew would reply
   “They are merely conventional signs!

“Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes!
   But we’ve got our brave Captain to thank
(So the crew would protest) “that he’s bought us the best—
   A perfect and absolute blank!”

This was charming, no doubt; but they shortly found out
   That the Captain they trusted so well
Had only one notion for crossing the ocean,
   And that was to tingle his bell.

He was thoughtful and grave—but the orders he gave
   Were enough to bewilder a crew.
When he cried “Steer to starboard, but keep her head larboard!”
   What on earth was the helmsman to do?

Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes:
   A thing, as the Bellman remarked,
That frequently happens in tropical climes,
   When a vessel is, so to speak, “snarked.”

But the principal failing occurred in the sailing,
   And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed,
Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East,
   That the ship would not travel due West!

But the danger was past—they had landed at last,
   With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view,
   Which consisted to chasms and crags.

The Bellman perceived that their spirits were low,
   And repeated in musical tone
Some jokes he had kept for a season of woe—
   But the crew would do nothing but groan.

He served out some grog with a liberal hand,
   And bade them sit down on the beach:
And they could not but own that their Captain looked grand,
   As he stood and delivered his speech.

“Friends, Romans, and countrymen, lend me your ears!”
   (They were all of them fond of quotations:
So they drank to his health, and they gave him three cheers,
   While he served out additional rations).

“We have sailed many months, we have sailed many weeks,
   (Four weeks to the month you may mark),
But never as yet (’tis your Captain who speaks)
   Have we caught the least glimpse of a Snark!

“We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
   (Seven days to the week I allow),
But a Snark, on the which we might lovingly gaze,
   We have never beheld till now!

“Come, listen, my men, while I tell you again
   The five unmistakable marks
By which you may know, wheresoever you go,
   The warranted genuine Snarks.

“Let us take them in order. The first is the taste,
   Which is meagre and hollow, but crisp:
Like a coat that is rather too tight in the waist,
   With a flavour of Will-o’-the-wisp.

“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
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
   To help you in hunting the Snark.

“A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
   Remarked, when I bade him farewell—”
“Oh, skip your dear uncle!” the Bellman exclaimed,
   As he angrily tingled his bell.

“He remarked to me then,” said that mildest of men,
   “‘If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means—you may serve it with greens,
   And it’s handy for striking a light.

“‘You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care;
   You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
   You may charm it with smiles and soap—'”

(“That’s exactly the method,” the Bellman bold
   In a hasty parenthesis cried,
“That’s exactly the way I have always been told
   That the capture of Snarks should be tried!”)

“‘But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,
   If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
   And never be met with again!’

“It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,
   When I think of my uncle’s last words:
And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
   Brimming over with quivering curds!

“It is this, it is this—” “We have had that before!”
   The Bellman indignantly said.
And the Baker replied “Let me say it once more.
   It is this, it is this that I dread!

“I engage with the Snark—every night after dark—
   In a dreamy delirious fight:
I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
   And I use it for striking a light:

“But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
   In a moment (of this I am sure),
I shall softly and suddenly vanish away—
   And the notion I cannot endure!”
Fit the Fourth
The Hunting

The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow.
   “If only you’d spoken before!
It’s excessively awkward to mention it now,
   With the Snark, so to speak, at the door!

“We should all of us grieve, as you well may believe,
   If you never were met with again—
But surely, my man, when the voyage began,
   You might have suggested it then?

“It’s excessively awkward to mention it now—
   As I think I’ve already remarked.”
And the man they called “Hi!” replied, with a sigh,
   “I informed you the day we embarked.

“You may charge me with murder—or want of sense—
   (We are all of us weak at times):
But the slightest approach to a false pretence
   Was never among my crimes!

“I said it in Hebrew—I said it in Dutch—
   I said it in German and Greek:
But I wholly forgot (and it vexes me much)
   That English is what you speak!”

“‘Tis a pitiful tale,” said the Bellman, whose face
   Had grown longer at every word:
“But, now that you’ve stated the whole of your case,
   More debate would be simply absurd.

“The rest of my speech” (he explained to his men)
   “You shall hear when I’ve leisure to speak it.
But the Snark is at hand, let me tell you again!
   ‘Tis your glorious duty to seek it!

“To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care;
   To pursue it with forks and hope;
To threaten its life with a railway-share;
   To charm it with smiles and soap!

“For the Snark’s a peculiar creature, that won’t
   Be caught in a commonplace way.
Do all that you know, and try all that you don’t:
   Not a chance must be wasted to-day!

“For England expects—I forbear to proceed:
   ‘Tis a maxim tremendous, but trite:
And you’d best be unpacking the things that you need
   To rig yourselves out for the fight.”

Then the Banker endorsed a blank check (which he crossed),
   And changed his loose silver for notes.
The Baker with care combed his whiskers and hair,
   And shook the dust out of his coats.

The Boots and the Broker were sharpening a spade—
   Each working the grindstone in turn:
But the Beaver went on making lace, and displayed
   No interest in the concern:

Though the Barrister tried to appeal to its pride,
   And vainly proceeded to cite
A number of cases, in which making laces
   Had been proved an infringement of right.

The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned
   A novel arrangement of bows:
While the Billiard-marker with quivering hand
   Was chalking the tip of his nose.

But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself fine,
   With yellow kid gloves and a ruff—
Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,
   Which the Bellman declared was all “stuff.”

“Introduce me, now there’s a good fellow,” he said,
   “If we happen to meet it together!”
And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,
   Said “That must depend on the weather.”

The Beaver went simply galumphing about,
   At seeing the Butcher so shy:
And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,
   Made an effort to wink with one eye.

“Be a man!” said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard
   The Butcher beginning to sob.
“Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,
   We shall need all our strength for the job!”
Fit the Fifth
The Beaver’s Lesson

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
   They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
   They charmed it with smiles and soap.

Then the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan
   For making a separate sally;
And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,
   A dismal and desolate valley.

But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:
   It had chosen the very same place:
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,
   The disgust that appeared in his face.

Each thought he was thinking of nothing but “Snark”
   And the glorious work of the day;
And each tried to pretend that he did not remark
   That the other was going that way.

But the valley grew narrow and narrower still,
   And the evening got darker and colder,
Till (merely from nervousness, not from good will)
   They marched along shoulder to shoulder.

Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,
   And they knew that some danger was near:
The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail,
   And even the Butcher felt queer.

He thought of his childhood, left far far behind—
   That blissful and innocent state—
The sound so exactly recalled to his mind
   A pencil that squeaks on a slate!

“‘Tis the voice of the Jubjub!” he suddenly cried.
   (This man, that they used to call “Dunce.”)
“As the Bellman would tell you,” he added with pride,
   “I have uttered that sentiment once.

“‘Tis the note of the Jubjub! Keep count, I entreat;
   You will find I have told it you twice.
Tis the song of the Jubjub! The proof is complete,
   If only I’ve stated it thrice.”

The Beaver had counted with scrupulous care,
   Attending to every word:
But it fairly lost heart, and outgrabe in despair,
   When the third repetition occurred.

It felt that, in spite of all possible pains,
   It had somehow contrived to lose count,
And the only thing now was to rack its poor brains
   By reckoning up the amount.

“Two added to one—if that could but be done,”
   It said, “with one’s fingers and thumbs!”
Recollecting with tears how, in earlier years,
   It had taken no pains with its sums.

“The thing can be done,” said the Butcher, “I think.
   The thing must be done, I am sure.
The thing shall be done! Bring me paper and ink,
   The best there is time to procure.”

The Beaver brought paper, portfolio, pens,
   And ink in unfailing supplies:
While strange creepy creatures came out of their dens,
   And watched them with wondering eyes.

So engrossed was the Butcher, he heeded them not,
   As he wrote with a pen in each hand,
And explained all the while in a popular style
   Which the Beaver could well understand.

“Taking Three as the subject to reason about—
   A convenient number to state—
We add Seven, and Ten, and then multiply out
   By One Thousand diminished by Eight.

“The result we proceed to divide, as you see,
   By Nine Hundred and Ninety and Two:
Then subtract Seventeen, and the answer must be
   Exactly and perfectly true.

“The method employed I would gladly explain,
   While I have it so clear in my head,
If I had but the time and you had but the brain—
   But much yet remains to be said.

“In one moment I’ve seen what has hitherto been
   Enveloped in absolute mystery,
And without extra charge I will give you at large
   A Lesson in Natural History.”

In his genial way he proceeded to say
   (Forgetting all laws of propriety,
And that giving instruction, without introduction,
   Would have caused quite a thrill in Society),

“As to temper the Jubjub’s a desperate bird,
   Since it lives in perpetual passion:
Its taste in costume is entirely absurd—
   It is ages ahead of the fashion:

“But it knows any friend it has met once before:
   It never will look at a bribe:
And in charity-meetings it stands at the door,
   And collects—though it does not subscribe.

“Its flavour when cooked is more exquisite far
   Than mutton, or oysters, or eggs:
(Some think it keeps best in an ivory jar,
   And some, in mahogany kegs:)

“You boil it in sawdust: you salt it in glue:
   You condense it with locusts and tape:
Still keeping one principal object in view—
   To preserve its symmetrical shape.”

The Butcher would gladly have talked till next day,
   But he felt that the Lesson must end,
And he wept with delight in attempting to say
   He considered the Beaver his friend.

While the Beaver confessed, with affectionate looks
   More eloquent even than tears,
It had learned in ten minutes far more than all books
   Would have taught it in seventy years.

They returned hand-in-hand, and the Bellman, unmanned
   (For a moment) with noble emotion,
Said “This amply repays all the wearisome days
   We have spent on the billowy ocean!”

Such friends, as the Beaver and Butcher became,
   Have seldom if ever been known;
In winter or summer, ’twas always the same—
   You could never meet either alone.

And when quarrels arose—as one frequently finds
   Quarrels will, spite of every endeavour—
The song of the Jubjub recurred to their minds,
   And cemented their friendship for ever!
Fit the Sixth
The Barrister’s Dream

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
   They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
   They charmed it with smiles and soap.

But the Barrister, weary of proving in vain
   That the Beaver’s lace-making was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in dreams saw the creature quite plain
   That his fancy had dwelt on so long.

He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
   Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig
   On the charge of deserting its sty.

The Witnesses proved, without error or flaw,
   That the sty was deserted when found:
And the Judge kept explaining the state of the law
   In a soft under-current of sound.

The indictment had never been clearly expressed,
   And it seemed that the Snark had begun,
And had spoken three hours, before any one guessed
   What the pig was supposed to have done.

The Jury had each formed a different view
   (Long before the indictment was read),
And they all spoke at once, so that none of them knew
   One word that the others had said.

“You must know—” said the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed “Fudge!”
   That statute is obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my friends, the whole question depends
   On an ancient manorial right.

“In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
   To have aided, but scarcely abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
   If you grant the plea ‘never indebted.’

“The fact of Desertion I will not dispute;
   But its guilt, as I trust, is removed
(So far as relates to the costs of this suit)
   By the Alibi which has been proved.

“My poor client’s fate now depends on your votes.”
   Here the speaker sat down in his place,
And directed the Judge to refer to his notes
   And briefly to sum up the case.

But the Judge said he never had summed up before;
   So the Snark undertook it instead,
And summed it so well that it came to far more
   Than the Witnesses ever had said!

When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
   As the word was so puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn’t mind
   Undertaking that duty as well.

So the Snark found the verdict, although, as it owned,
   It was spent with the toils of the day:
When it said the word “GUILTY!” the Jury all groaned,
   And some of them fainted away.

Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
   Too nervous to utter a word:
When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,
   And the fall of a pin might be heard.

“Transportation for life” was the sentence it gave,
   “And then to be fined forty pound.”
The Jury all cheered, though the Judge said he feared
   That the phrase was not legally sound.

But their wild exultation was suddenly checked
   When the jailer informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would have not the slightest effect,
   As the pig had been dead for some years.

The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted:
   But the Snark, though a little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom the defence was intrusted,
   Went bellowing on to the last.

Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
   To grow every moment more clear:
Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,
   Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.
Fit the Seventh
The Banker’s Fate

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
   They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
   They charmed it with smiles and soap.

And the Banker, inspired with a courage so new
   It was matter for general remark,
Rushed madly ahead and was lost to their view
   In his zeal to discover the Snark

But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
   A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
   For he knew it was useless to fly.

He offered large discount—he offered a cheque
   (Drawn “to bearer”) for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch merely extended its neck
   And grabbed at the Banker again.

Without rest or pause—while those frumious jaws
   Went savagely snapping around—
He skipped and he hopped, and he floundered and flopped,
   Till fainting he fell to the ground.

The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared
   Led on by that fear-stricken yell:
And the Bellman remarked “It is just as I feared!”
   And solemnly tolled on his bell.

He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace
   The least likeness to what he had been:
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white—
   A wonderful thing to be seen!

To the horror of all who were present that day,
   He uprose in full evening dress,
And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say
   What his tongue could no longer express.

Down he sank in a chair—ran his hands through his hair—
   And chanted in mimsiest tones
Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,
   While he rattled a couple of bones.

“Leave him here to his fate—it is getting so late!”
   The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.
“We have lost half the day. Any further delay,
   And we sha’n’t catch a Snark before night!”
Fit the Eighth
The Vanishing

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
   They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
   They charmed it with smiles and soap.

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,
   And the Beaver, excited at last,
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,
   For the daylight was nearly past.

“There is Thingumbob shouting!” the Bellman said,
   “He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
   He has certainly found a Snark!”

They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed
   “He was always a desperate wag!”
They beheld him—their Baker—their hero unnamed—
   On the top of a neighbouring crag,

Erect and sublime, for one moment of time,
   In the next, that wild figure they saw
(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,
   While they waited and listened in awe.

“It’s a Snark!” was the sound that first came to their ears,
   And seemed almost too good to be true.
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
   Then the ominous words “It’s a Boo—”

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air
   A weary and wandering sigh
That sounded like “-jum!” but the others declare
   It was only a breeze that went by.

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
   Not a button, or feather, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
   Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
   In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away—
   For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.
I thought I’d switch it up a bit and give you all some classic Lewis Carroll. I love Carroll’s whimsy and I admire that he wasn’t afraid to break a few rules to achieve his idea of ‘fantasy’. Anyway! Happy Wednesday and I hope you enjoyed The Hunting of the Snark!
If you love fairy tales, follow this blog for new full length fairy tales every Wednesday and Saturday! Also stay tuned for information and sneak peeks into my new fantasy/adventure novel The Prince of Prophecy Vol. I: Destined (launching June 21st, 2014)!

Did You Know: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland


Ever wonder why the March Hare is pictured with straw on top of his head? In Victorian times straw on top of the head was used to portray madness. Then, of course, we have the Mad Hatter. In the nineteenth century, mercury was used in the making of hats. Because hatters worked so closely with this dangerous chemical, many of them became poisoned by it. The effects of mercury poisoning include:  “tremors; emotional changes (e.g., mood swings, irritability, nervousness, excessive shyness); insomnia; neuromuscular changes (such as weakness, muscle atrophy, twitching); headaches; disturbances in sensations; changes in nerve responses; performance deficits on tests of cognitive function.” With all those symptoms, it’s easy to see why people would think that hatters were insane. Thus came the term “mad as a hatter”, and thus are the origins of the Mad Hatter from Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

Want more nonsense? Here’s the link to Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland for those of you who are “curiouser and curiouser”: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11/11-h/11-h.htm

Click here to visit my Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/ThePrinceofProphecy



‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

– Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass

Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/ThePrinceofProphecy