The Collected Poems of Freddy the Pig Read online

  The Collected Poems of Freddy the Pig

  Walter R. Brooks

  Illustrated by Kurt Wiese

  The Overlook Press

  New York, NY

  Foreword

  Most of the poems included in this volume have previously appeared in one or another of the many volumes of Mr. Brooks’ monumental work on the history of the animals of the Bean farm. They are offered as a sample or foretaste of the pleasure awaiting those who will be able some day to purchase the Complete Poetical Works of this gifted pig. The latter volume is in preparation and will include many new poems not hitherto available in print (though no publication date has been announced or for that matter contemplated). It is perhaps unnecessary to call attention to the artistic perfection and intellectual brilliance of Freddy’s work: the poems speak for themselves. We hope that this selection will introduce them to wide audiences, both here and abroad, among both humans and others.

  Dealing primarily with farm life, and more specifically with the problems and pleasures of pigs, there is among them nevertheless something suited to every taste, applicable to every human situation.

  As you can see, other Bean animals caught the fever from Freddy. Their verse, of course, has absolutely none of the fine tones found in the pig’s work, but it was deemed fair and square to include it. If nothing else, their work affords relief from the mass of stuff by the pig and about the pig.

  —The Editors

  Contents

  Spring and Other Things

  Ode to Spring

  Spring Song

  Buds and Peepers

  On a Walk in the Rain

  Ode to the North Pole

  Ode to Nothing

  The Features

  No. 1: The Eyes

  No. 2: The Ears

  No. 3: The Nose

  No. 4: The Mouth

  No. 5: The Chin

  No. 6: The Whiskers

  No. 7: The Hair

  Marching Songs

  The Open Road

  On Roads

  The Homesick Pig

  Florida

  The Open Road Again

  Circus Marching Song

  The Animals’ Marching Song

  Camping Song

  Florida Weather Note

  Self-praise

  Admire the Pig

  P, as in Pig

  The Happiness of Pigs

  Vacation Song

  Self-Portrait

  The Courageous Pig

  Advantages of Being a Pig

  Ode to the Pig: His Tail

  Ode to the Pig: His Legs

  Flying Pigs

  Ranch and Range

  Home on the Farm

  Two-Gun Freddy

  From the Ballad of Two-Gun Freddy

  Warning to Rustlers

  Lament

  Serenade with Yodels

  Horribles

  Chant of the Horrible Ten

  More Horribles

  Pursuit of Bannister by Horribles

  Chant of the Horrible Twenty

  Salute to the Fearless Skunk

  Chant of the Horrible Thirty

  Not about Pigs

  Ants, Although Admirable, Are Awfully Aggravating

  Bees, Bothered by Bold Bears, Behave Badly

  Tribute to the Eagle

  Song of the Homesick Spider

  Diet of Robins

  Valentine for Jerry

  Laments

  Earthbound

  I Feel Awful

  The Days of My Youth

  Gloom Song

  Justice for the Pig

  A Waggable Tail

  Resignation

  Home Is Where the Heart Is

  The Wanderer Pig

  Queen’s Song

  By Other Animals

  Prisoners’ Songs

  Rats’ Song

  Rats on Freddy

  Thoughts on Talkers

  Valentine

  Spring and Other Things

  ODE TO SPRING

  O spring, O spring,

  You wonderful thing!

  O spring, O spring, O spring!

  O spring, O spring,

  When the birdies sing

  I feel like a king,

  O spring!

  SPRING SONG

  Hooray for the spring! What a glorious feeling!

  All the little lambs on the hillsides squealing!

  Tighten up your braces! Tuck in your shirt!

  All the little green things growing in the dirt!

  BUDS AND PEEPERS

  Spring is in the air;

  Birds are flying north;

  And though trees are bare,

  Now they’re putting forth

  Leaves. The fields are green.

  Sun is getting higher.

  Monday Mr. Bean

  Put out the furnace fire.

  Birds are building nests;

  In the swamp are peepers;

  Men discard their vests;

  Eggs are getting cheaper.

  ON A WALK IN THE RAIN

  When I set out upon this tour,

  I thought the skies would be much bluer.

  When I set out upon this tramp,

  How could I know ’twould be so damp?

  When I set out on this excursion,

  I did not think it meant submersion.

  When I set out upon this trip

  I should have started in a ship.

  ODE TO THE NORTH POLE

  O Pole, O Pole, O glorious Pole!

  To you I sing this song,

  Where bedtime comes but once a year,

  Since the nights are six months long.

  Yes, the nights are six months long, my dears,

  And the days are the same, you see,

  So breakfast and supper each last a week,

  And dinner sometimes three.

  Then there’s tea and lunch, and we sometimes munch

  Occasional snacks between—

  Such mountains of candies and cakes and pies

  Have never before been seen.

  Let the wild winds howl about the Pole,

  Let the snowflakes swirl and swoop;

  We’re snug and warm and safe from harm

  And they’re bringing in the soup.

  We’ll sit at the table as long as we’re able,

  We’ll rise and stretch, and then,

  Since there’s nothing to do but gobble and chew,

  We’ll sit right down again.

  We’ll tuck our napkins under our chins

  To keep our waistcoats neat,

  And then we’ll eat and eat and eat

  And eat and eat and eat

  ODE TO NOTHING

  Let others sing of fall and spring,

  Of love and dove, of eyes and sighs;

  My song is not of anything;

  It tells no whats, it gives no whys.

  And is it sad? Or is it gay?

  I do not know. I cannot say.

  It seeks no meaning to convey,

  It has no subject, point or plot.

  It must mean something, you will say—

  But I assure you it does not.

  No scowls across my features creep,

  No tears bedew my handkerchief;

  I do not try to make you weep,

  To moan with anguish, sob with grief.

  Contrariwise, no smiles contort

  My face; I wish to give no cause

  For anyone to roar and snort

  With uncontrollable guffaws.

  And if you ask me: is this so?

  I cannot say. I do not know.

  The Features

  NO. 1: THE EYES
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  The eyes are brown or black or blue

  Or grey, and of them there are two.

  They are arranged beside the nose,

  One to each side, which, I suppose

  Was done because no other place

  Was vacant in the human face.

  How helpfully eyes scan the dish

  And watch for bones when eating fish,

  Or with a side glance, indirect, eyes

  Warn us of grease spots on our neckties.

  Then, eyes are used to show our feelings,

  In place of yells and sobs and squealings.

  For instance, to express surprise,

  You raise the lids and pop the eyes;

  In showing grief, the lids are dropped

  And tears (if any) gently sopped

  Up with a handkerchief—a white one

  (And preferably clean) ’s the right one.

  The eyes are cleverly equipped

  With little lids, which can be flipped

  Up in the morning, down at night,

  To let in or shut out the light.

  We could fill pages with our cries

  Of admiration for the eyes;

  They’re indispensable (see above).

  True, eyebrows are well spoken of;

  The ears are hard to do without;

  The nose is useful too, no doubt;

  But eyes! Do not dispense with those!

  Abandon ears; give up your nose;

  But we most earnestly advise:

  Hang on most firmly to your eyes.

  NO. 2: THE EARS

  The ears are two in number, and

  Beside the head, on either hand,—

  One to the left, one to the right—

  They are attached extremely tight.

  Their purpose is twofold, to wit:

  To give the hat a place to sit,

  So that it will not lose its place

  And, slipping down, engulf the face.

  Also to ventilate the brain,

  When heated by great mental strain,

  By standing at right angles out

  To catch whatever wind’s about,

  Or when the summer breeze is napping,

  To substitute by gently flapping.

  Do not, therefore, attempt to pull

  The ears from off the parent skull.

  Though ears look odd and out of place,

  And add so little to the face,

  Though as adornment they’re lamentable,

  Without them you’d be unpresentable;

  And he who rashly grabs the shears

  Will find too late, with bitter tears,

  That there’s no substitute for ears.

  NO. 3: THE NOSE

  The nose, in general, finds its place

  About the center of the face,

  Continuing the forehead south

  Between the eyes, down towards the mouth,

  Above which, usually it

  Stops short, in order not to hit

  The chin, which in its normal place

  Below the mouth, completes the face.

  (Though here of ears we make no mention,

  They are well worthy of attention.)

  And thus we see, by its position,

  The nose has an important mission;

  For, gathered round it in a troop,

  The other features thus can group

  Themselves upon it, each in place

  Symmetrically to form a face.

  Without a nose to rally round

  The other features would be bound

  To wander off in all directions

  And with the face lose all connections.

  Without a nose, I rather guess

  Your face would be an awful mess.

  A nose, too, if not badly bent

  Can be a handsome ornament

  Which one can wear with joy and pride,

  So do not lay your nose aside.

  Preserve your nose at any cost;

  You can’t replace it if it’s lost.

  And wear it in its normal place,

  Right in the middle of your face.

  NO. 4: THE MOUTH

  The mouth is located below

  The nose, and is constructed so

  That when it grins, it stretches wide

  To touch the ears on either side.

  This elasticity is handy

  In eating pie, or hunks of candy.

  Though hunks that stretch the mouth too tight

  (By some considered impolite)

  Require much earnest concentration,

  And interfere with conversation.

  In fact, there are extremely few

  Who can, with charm, both talk and chew.

  It’s best to keep the two things separate;

  When dinner’s served, just salt and pepper it,

  And for your conversation wait

  Until there’s nothing on your plate.

  NO. 5: THE CHIN

  Proceeding south upon the face

  The forehead first takes up some space,

  Beneath which you will find the eyebrows

  And then the eyes (called “orbs” by highbrows).

  Along the nose continue south

  And presently you reach the mouth

  And see, beyond, on the horizon,

  The chin’s bold promontory risin’.

  Consider, then, the chin. Although it’s

  Never been praised by famous poets,

  Yet do not sneer at it, nor scoff,

  And never, never chop it off,

  For if removed, the face is shortened,

  The mouth no longer looks important

  But rests directly on the collar—

  Which makes the public laugh and holler.

  For with no chin you’d be no vision

  Of beauty. You’d invite derision.

  You’d look half-witted; you’d look funny;

  No one would ever lend you money;

  And dentists, putting in a filling,

  Would have no place to lean when drilling.

  The chin is used in mastication;

  Thrust out, it shows determination;

  And other uses I could mention—

  But I’m afraid that your attention

  Is wandering. Confidentially,

  This verse is even boring me.

  As for the chin, I must admit

  I’m getting good and sick of it.

  NO. 6: THE WHISKERS

  The whiskers on some men are quite

  The most important things in sight.

  On Mr. Bean or General Grant.

  Among the foliage you can’t

  Tell ears from eyes or mouth from nose;

  The beard among the features grows

  Luxuriant, it overflows

  The chin, cascading down the chest,

  Conceals the collar, tie and vest.

  (Were I with whiskers so bedecked, I

  ’d never, never wear a necktie.)

  But there are dangers to be feared,

  For of one aged man I’ve heerd

  Who had a most enormous beard

  And chipmunks, mice and other creatures,

  Who ventured in among his features

  Got lost among those bushy cheeks

  And wandered there for weeks and weeks.

  Yes, some, they say, went in and then

  Vanished, were never seen again.

  Such stories, though, can hardly be

  Accepted unreservedly.

  It’s possible, of course, they’re true;

  For one bewhiskered gent I knew,

  A traveling man from Kalamazoo,

  Who used his beard to keep things in—

  His pipe, tobacco, and a tin

  Or two of Portuguese sardines,

  Boxes of crackers, cans of beans,

  And several current magazines.

  When traveling on local trains,

  In steamships or in aeroplanes, />
  His simple wants he kept supplied

  With what he had concealed inside

  That whiskered shade—as gum, or smokes,

  Light lunches or a book of jokes.

  Thus were his lonely journeys cheered—

  But that’s enough about the beard.

  NO. 7: THE HAIR

  The hair is an adornment

  Which grows upon the head;

  It’s black or yellow, brown or grey,

  Occasionally red;

  But never blue or green or puce;

  Such colors would look like the deuce.

  That’s just one pig’s opinion—

  Some have a preference

  For hair that’s not so usual,

  For colors more intense.

  They go for violet or carmine,

  And think that pink is simply charmin’.

  So if you’re really anxious

  To change to green or red,

  Just tell your barber what you want

  And when he soaps your head,

  The functionary who shampoos you

  Will tint your hair light blue or fuchsia.

  Aside from being pretty

  The hair can be of help

  If someone bangs you on the head

  So hard it makes you yelp!

  If you have hair that’s thick and tangled

  You’re not so likely to get mangled.

  Without hair you’d look funny,

  And rather like a squash,

  And every morning you would have

  A lot more face to wash.

  Your face would go up past your forehead,

  And you’ll agree that would look horrid.

  Grass only grows in summer,

  Hair grows the whole year through;

  It must be mowed quite frequently,

  And raked twice daily, too.

  Your hair (called “locks,” and sometimes “tresses”)

  If never combed, an awful mess is.

  Yet some folks never cut it—

  Prefer to let it grow.

  This has advantages of course,

  And even though it’s slow,

  In time they get enough to fill a

  Small mattress, or to stuff a pillow.

  Marching Songs

  THE OPEN ROAD

  Oh, the sailor may sing of his tall, swift ships,

  Of sailing the deep blue sea,

  But the long, white road where adventures wait

  Is the better life for me.