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Best Famous Edward Lear Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Edward Lear poems. This is a select list of the best famous Edward Lear poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Edward Lear poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Edward Lear poems.

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by Edward Lear |

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
  In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money
  Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!" Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will.
" So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.

by Edward Lear |

The Pobble Who Has No Toes

 The Pobble who has no toes
Had once as many as we;
When they said "Some day you may lose them all;"
He replied "Fish, fiddle-de-dee!"
And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink
Lavender water tinged with pink,
For she said "The World in general knows
There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!"

The Pobble who has no toes
Swam across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped his nose
In a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said "No harm Can come to his toes if his nose is warm; And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes Are safe, -- provided he minds his nose!" The Pobble swam fast and well, And when boats or ships came near him, He tinkledy-blinkledy-winkled a bell, So that all the world could hear him.
And all the Sailors and Admirals cried, When they saw him nearing the further side - "He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!" But before he touched the shore, The shore of the Bristol Channel, A sea-green porpoise carried away His wrapper of scarlet flannel.
And when he came to observe his feet, Formerly garnished with toes so neat, His face at once became forlorn, On perceiving that all his toes were gone! And nobody ever knew, From that dark day to the present, Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes, In a manner so far from pleasant.
Whether the shrimps, or crawfish grey, Or crafty Mermaids stole them away - Nobody knew: and nobody knows How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes! The Pobble who has no toes Was placed in a friendly Bark, And they rowed him back, and carried him up To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
And she made him a feast at his earnest wish Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish, - And she said "It's a fact the whole world knows, That Pobbles are happier without their toes!"

by Edward Lear |

The Dong with a Luminous Nose

 When awful darkness and silence reign
Over the great Gromboolian plain,
Through the long, long wintry nights; --
When the angry breakers roar
As they beat on the rocky shore; --
When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore: --

Then, through the vast and gloomy dark,
There moves what seems a fiery spark,
A lonely spark with silvery rays
Piercing the coal-black night, --
A Meteor strange and bright: --
Hither and thither the vision strays,
A single lurid light.
Slowly it wander, -- pauses, -- creeps, -- Anon it sparkles, -- flashes and leaps; And ever as onward it gleaming goes A light on the Bong-tree stems it throws.
And those who watch at that midnight hour From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower, Cry, as the wild light passes along, -- "The Dong! -- the Dong! "The wandering Dong through the forest goes! "The Dong! the Dong! "The Dong with a luminous Nose!" Long years ago The Dong was happy and gay, Till he fell in love with a Jumbly Girl Who came to those shores one day.
For the Jumblies came in a sieve, they did, -- Landing at eve near the Zemmery Fidd Where the Oblong Oysters grow, And the rocks are smooth and gray.
And all the woods and the valleys rang With the Chorus they daily and nightly sang, -- "Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and the hands are blue And they went to sea in a sieve.
Happily, happily passed those days! While the cheerful Jumblies staid; They danced in circlets all night long, To the plaintive pipe of the lively Dong, In moonlight, shine, or shade.
For day and night he was always there By the side of the Jumbly Girl so fair, With her sky-blue hands, and her sea-green hair.
Till the morning came of that hateful day When the Jumblies sailed in their sieve away, And the Dong was left on the cruel shore Gazing -- gazing for evermore, -- Ever keeping his weary eyes on That pea-green sail on the far horizon, -- Singing the Jumbly Chorus still As he sate all day on the grassy hill, -- "Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and the hands are blue And they went to sea in a sieve.
But when the sun was low in the West, The Dong arose and said; -- "What little sense I once possessed Has quite gone out of my head!" -- And since that day he wanders still By lake and dorest, marsh and hills, Singing -- "O somewhere, in valley or plain "Might I find my Jumbly Girl again! "For ever I'll seek by lake and shore "Till I find my Jumbly Girl once more!" Playing a pipe with silvery squeaks, Since then his Jumbly Girl he seeks, And because by night he could not see, He gathered the bark of the Twangum Tree On the flowery plain that grows.
And he wove him a wondrous Nose, -- A Nose as strange as a Nose could be! Of vast proportions and painted red, And tied with cords to the back of his head.
-- In a hollow rounded space it ended With a luminous Lamp within suspended, All fenced about With a bandage stout To prevent the wind from blowing it out; -- And with holes all round to send the light, In gleaming rays on the dismal night.
And now each night, and all night long, Over those plains still roams the Dong; And above the wail of the Chimp and Snipe You may hear the squeak of his plaintive pipe While ever he seeks, but seeks in vain To meet with his Jumbly Girl again; Lonely and wild -- all night he goes, -- The Dong with a luminous Nose! And all who watch at the midnight hour, From Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower, Cry, as they trace the Meteor bright, Moving along through the dreary night, -- "This is the hour when forth he goes, "The Dong with a luminous Nose! "Yonder -- over the plain he goes; "He goes! "He goes; "The Dong with a luminous Nose!"

by Edward Lear |

The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo


On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,-- One old jug without a handle,-- These were all his worldly goods: In the middle of the woods, These were all the worldly goods, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
II Once, among the Bong-trees walking Where the early pumpkins blow, To a little heap of stones Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
There he heard a Lady talking, To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,-- ''Tis the lady Jingly Jones! 'On that little heap of stones 'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
III 'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly! 'Sitting where the pumpkins blow, 'Will you come and be my wife?' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
'I am tired of living singly,-- 'On this coast so wild and shingly,-- 'I'm a-weary of my life: 'If you'll come and be my wife, 'Quite serene would be my life!'-- Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
IV 'On this Coast of Coromandel, 'Shrimps and watercresses grow, 'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
'You shall have my chairs and candle, 'And my jug without a handle!-- 'Gaze upon the rolling deep ('Fish is plentiful and cheap) 'As the sea, my love is deep!' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
V Lady Jingly answered sadly, And her tears began to flow,-- 'Your proposal comes too late, 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'I would be your wife most gladly!' (Here she twirled her fingers madly,) 'But in England I've a mate! 'Yes! you've asked me far too late, 'For in England I've a mate, 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?!' VI 'Mr.
Jones -- (his name is Handel,-- 'Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.
) 'Dorking fowls delights to send, 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle, 'And your jug without a handle,-- 'I can merely be your friend! '-- Should my Jones more Dorkings send, 'I will give you three, my friend! 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?!' VII 'Though you've such a tiny body, 'And your head so large doth grow,-- 'Though your hat may blow away, 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy-- 'Yet a wish that I could modi- 'fy the words I needs must say! 'Will you please to go away? 'That is all I have to say-- 'Mr.
Yonghy-Bonghy-B?! 'Mr.
VIII Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins blow, To the calm and silent sea Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle, Lay a large and lively Turtle,-- 'You're the Cove,' he said, 'for me 'On your back beyond the sea, 'Turtle, you shall carry me!' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
IX Through the silent-roaring ocean Did the Turtle swiftly go; Holding fast upon his shell Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
With a sad prim?val motion Towards the sunset isles of Boshen Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell, 'Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!' Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
X From the Coast of Coromandel, Did that Lady never go; On that heap of stones she mourns For the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.
On that Coast of Coromandel, In his jug without a handle Still she weeps, and daily moans; On that little hep of stones To her Dorking Hens she moans, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-B?.

by Edward Lear |

The Akond of Swat

 Who, or why, or which, or what, Is the Akond of SWAT?

Is he tall or short, or dark or fair?
Does he sit on a stool or a sofa or a chair,
 or SQUAT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Is he wise or foolish, young or old?
Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,
 or HOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,
And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk
 or TROT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?
Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,
 or COT,
 The Akond of Swat?

When he writes a copy in round-hand size,
Does he cross his T's and finish his I's
 with a DOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Can he write a letter concisely clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear
 or BLOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Do his people like him extremely well?
Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,
 or PLOT,
 At the Akond of Swat?

If he catches them then, either old or young,
Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,
 or SHOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Do his people prig in the lanes or park?
Or even at times, when days are dark,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he study the wants of his own dominion?
Or doesn't he care for public opinion
 a JOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

To amuse his mind do his people show him
Pictures, or any one's last new poem,
 or WHAT,
 For the Akond of Swat?

At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,
Do they bring him only a few small cakes,
 or a LOT,
 For the Akond of Swat?

Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?
Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,
 or a DOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he like to lie on his back in a boat
Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,
 The Akond of Swat?

Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?
Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or Russ,
 or a SCOT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does like to sit by the calm blue wave?
Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,
 or a GROTT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?
Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?
 or a POT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,
When she let the gooseberries grow too ripe,
 or ROT,
 The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,
And tie it neat in a bow with ends,
 or a KNOT.
The Akond of Swat? Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies? When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes, or NOT, The Akond of Swat? Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake? Does he sail about on an inland lake in a YACHT, The Akond of Swat? Some one, or nobody, knows I wot Who or which or why or what Is the Akond of Swat?

by Edward Lear |

How pleasant to know Mr. Lear

 How pleasant to know Mr.
Lear, Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered and queer, But a few find him pleasant enough.
His mind is concrete and fastidious, His nose is remarkably big; His visage is more or less hideous, His beard it resembles a wig.
He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers, (Leastways if you reckon two thumbs); He used to be one of the singers, But now he is one of the dumbs.
He sits in a beautiful parlour, With hundreds of books on the wall; He drinks a great deal of marsala, But never gets tipsy at all.
He has many friends, laymen and clerical, Old Foss is the name of his cat; His body is perfectly spherical, He weareth a runcible hat.
When he walks in waterproof white, The children run after him so! Calling out, "He's gone out in his night- Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!" He weeps by the side of the ocean, He weeps on the top of the hill; He purchases pancakes and lotion, And chocolate shrimps from the mill.
He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish, He cannot abide ginger beer; Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish, How pleasant to know Mr.

by Edward Lear |

There Was An Old Person Of Nice

 There was an old person of Nice, 
Whose associates were usually Geese.
They walked out together, in all sorts of weather.
That affable person of Nice!

by Edward Lear |

The Two Old Bachelors

 Two old Bachelors were living in one house;
One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse.
Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse, - "This happens just in time! For we've nothing in the house, "Save a tiny slice of lemon and a teaspoonful of honey, "And what to do for dinner - since we haven't any money? "And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner, "But to lose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?" Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin, - "We might cook this little Mouse, if we only had some Stuffin'! "If we had but Sage and Onion we could do extremely well, "But how to get that Stuffin' it is difficult to tell!" - Those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down; They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found In the Shops, or in the Market, or in all the Gardens round.
But some one said, - "A hill there is, a little to the north, "And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth; - "And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage, - "An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page.
"Climb up, and seize him by the toes!-all studious as he sits, - "And pull him down, - and chop him into endless little bits! "Then mix him with your Onion, (cut up likewise into Scraps,) - "When your Stuffin' will be ready-and very good: perhaps.
" Those two old Bachelors without loss of time The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb; And at the top, among the rocks, all seated in a nook, They saw that Sage, a reading of a most enormous book.
"You earnest Sage!" aloud they cried, "your book you've read enough in!- "We wish to chop you into bits to mix you into Stuffin'!"- But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book, At those two Bachelors' bald heads a certain aim he took;- And over Crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down,- At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town,- And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want of Stuffin',) The Mouse had fled; - and, previously, had eaten up the Muffin.
They left their home in silence by the once convivial door.
And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more.

by Edward Lear |

There Was an Old Man with a Beard

 There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared! --
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard.

by Edward Lear |

There was an old man on the Border

 There was an old man on the Border, 
Who lived in the utmost disorder; 
He danced with the cat, and made tea in his hat, 
Which vexed all the folks on the Border.