An Impromptu Fairy-Tale

A poem by James Whitcomb Riley

When I wuz ist a little bit
o' weenty-teenty kid
I maked up a Fairy-tale,
all by myse'f, I did: -



I

Wunst upon a time wunst
They wuz a Fairy King,
An' ever'thing he have wuz gold - ,
His clo'es, an' ever'thing!
An' all the other Fairies
In his goldun Palace-hall
Had to hump an' hustle -
'Cause he wuz bosst of all!



II

He have a goldun trumput,
An' when he blow' on that,
It's a sign he want' his boots,
Er his coat er hat:
They's a sign fer ever'thing, -
An' all the Fairies knowed
Ever' sign, an' come a-hoppin'
When the King blowed!



III

Wunst he blowed an' telled 'em all:
"Saddle up yer bees -
Fireflies is gittin' fat
An' sassy as you please! -
Guess we'll go a-huntin'!"
So they hunt' a little bit,
Till the King blowed "Supper-time,"
Nen they all quit.



IV

Nen they have a Banqut
In the Palace-hall,
An' ist et! an' et! an' et!
Nen they have a Ball;
An' when the Queen o' Fairyland
Come p'omenadin' through,
The King says an' halts her, -
"Guess I'll marry you!"