By Margaret Johnson
N flowery, fair Cathay,That kingdom far away,
Where, odd as it seems, ‘t is always night
when here we are having day,
In the time of the great Ching-Wang,
In the city of proud Shi-Bang,
In the glorious golden days of old when
sage and poet sang,
There lived a nobleman who
Was known as the Prince Choo-Choo.
(It was long before the Chinaman wore his
beautiful silken queue.)
A learned prince was he,
As rich as a prince could be,
And his house so gay had a grand gateway,
and a wonderful roof, sky-blue.
Was known as the Prince Choo-Choo.
(It was long before the Chinaman wore his
beautiful silken queue.)
A learned prince was he,
As rich as a prince could be,
And his house so gay had a grand gateway,
and a wonderful roof, sky-blue.
His garden was bright with tints
Of blossoming peach and quince,
And a million flowers whose like has not
been seen before or since;
And set ’mid delicate odors
Were cute little toy pagodas,
That looked exactly as if you might go in
for ice-cream sodas!
Of blossoming peach and quince,
And a million flowers whose like has not
been seen before or since;
And set ’mid delicate odors
Were cute little toy pagodas,
That looked exactly as if you might go in
for ice-cream sodas!
A silver fountain played
In a bowl of carven jade,
And pink and white in a crystal pond the
water-lilies swayed.
But never a flower that grew
In the garden of Prince Choo-Choo
Was half so fair as his daughter there, the
Princess Loo-lee Loo.
In a bowl of carven jade,
And pink and white in a crystal pond the
water-lilies swayed.
But never a flower that grew
In the garden of Prince Choo-Choo
Was half so fair as his daughter there, the
Princess Loo-lee Loo.
Loo-lee Loo. Each day she came and sat
On her queer little bamboo mat.
(And I hope she carried a doll or two, but I
can't be sure of that!)
She watched the fountain toss,
And she gazed the bridge across,
And she worked a bit of embroidery fine
with a thread of silken floss.
On her queer little bamboo mat.
(And I hope she carried a doll or two, but I
can't be sure of that!)
She watched the fountain toss,
And she gazed the bridge across,
And she worked a bit of embroidery fine
with a thread of silken floss.
Vol. XXXII—3.
57
