GRUMBLE TOWN A way out here in Grumble town All things are turning upside down The grass is blue, the sky is green A cloud or storm is never seen The stars shine brightest just at noon There is no new or wane of moon; Figs grow on vines, and grapes grow on trees We hive our horses and drive our bees The birds eat hay, The cows all sing There are four right angles to every ring The Islands here, by land are bound And in the sea, all lakes are found When tired workmen seek their rest The sun is rising in the west; New Years day we do our haying July fourth we all go sleighing The ponies ride, the boys all walk The men all chatter, the monkeys talk People go boating in the hills The ladies row, and pay the bills We catch our fish upon the mountains We build our campfires in the fountains Mamas ask questions of the boys The girls say, Papa stop that noise The epicure is clover eating The sheep for turtle soup are bleating Dogs talk of Plato, Greece and Rome The travelers all stay at home The little folk have snow white hair A babe with whiskers, is nothing rare; Aunts and cousins , sisters, brothers Each sees his own faults, not another's The rich are working in the street The beggars at the club houses meet The poor pass by with careworn brow For they have all the money now Old men do reverence to the youth And politicians always tell the truth All things have changed around about Criss cross, contrary, inside out Topsey Turvey, upside down To please the people of Grumbletown >From an old Scrapbook