Wonderland

I must confess that as a child this was my least favorite Disney movie. I'm not sure if it was my mom's dislike that influenced my own, or really my own. But while reading this book for the first time, I realized it was because the Disney version is crap, and the books is amazing! I think my favorite parts were the 'mixed up' poems that she recites.

How doth the little crocodile...

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!


How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!

As opposed to:

How doth the little busy bee...

How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the day
From every opening Flower!


How skilfully she builds her Cell!
How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet Food she makes.


In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do.


In Books, or Work, or healthful Play
Let my first Years be past,
That I may give for every Day
Some good Account at last.

I really enjoy how he takes a didactic tale about working hard and changes it into nonsense.

You are old Father William...

'You are old, Father William', the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth', Father William replied to his son,
'I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'

'You are old', said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door --
Pray, what is the reason of that?'

'In my youth', said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling the box -
Allow me to sell you a couple?'

'You are old', said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'

'In my youth', said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old', said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father, 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!'

Shockingly I couldn't find the poem this was parodying. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist, just that my google didn't find it. This is a really interesting concept for me, that Carroll was parodying something when he had nothing to parody.

Tis the voice of the Lobster... from Alice

'Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare
"You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair."
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark,
And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark;
But, when the tide rises and sharks are around,
His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,
How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie:
The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat,
While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat.

When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon,
Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon;
While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl,
And concluded the banquet by ---

Tis the voice of the sluggard...

’Tis the voice of the Sluggard: I heard him complain,
‘You have waked me too soon! I must slumber again!’
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bead
Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head.

‘A little more sleep, and a little more slumber!’
Thus he wastes half his days and his hours without number;
And when he gets up he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands.

I passed by his garden, and saw the wild brier,
The thorn, and the thistle grow broader and higher:
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes, till he starves or he begs.

I made him a visit, still hoping to find
He had took better care for improving his mind:
He told me his dreams, talk’d of eating and drinking;
But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.

Said I then to my heart, ‘Here’s a lesson for me!
That man’s but a picture of what I might be;
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who have taught me by times to love working and reading!’

This one is funny because The Sluggard is a christian song that he changed into a lobster tale.