Glugs of Gosh — Chapters 3-4

III. THE STONES OF GOSH

Now, here is a tale of the Glugs of Gosh, And a wonderful tale I ween, Of the Glugs of Gosh and their great King Splosh, And Tush, his virtuous Queen.

And here is a tale of the crafty Ogs, In their neighbouring land of Podge;

Of their sayings and doings and plottings and brewings, And something about Sir Stodge.

Wise to profundity, Stout to rotundity, That was the Knight, Sir Stodge.

Oh, the King was rich, and the Queen was fair, And they made a very respectable pair.

And whenever a Glug in that peaceful land, Did anything no one could understand, The Knight, Sir Stodge, he looked in a book, And charged that Glug with a crime called Crook.

And the great Judge Fudge, who wore for a hat The sacred skin of a tortoiseshell cat, He fined that Glug for his action rash, And frequently asked a deposit in cash.

Then every Glug, he went home to his rest With his head in a bag and his toes to the West;

For they knew it was best, Since their grandpas slept with their toes to the West.

But all of the tale that is so far told Has nothing whatever to do With the Ogs of Podge, and their crafty dodge, And the trade in pickles and glue.

To trade with the Glugs came the Ogs to Gosh, And they said in seductive tones, "We'll sell you pianers and pickels and spanners For seventeen shiploads of stones: Smooth 'uns or nobbly 'uns, Firm 'uns or wobbly 'uns, All we ask is stones."

And the King said, "What?"

and the Queen said, "Why, That is awfully cheap to the things I buy!

For that grocer of ours in the light brown hat Asks two and eleven for pickles like that!"

But a Glug stood up with a wart on his nose, And cried, "Your Majesties!

Ogs is foes!"

But the Glugs cried, "Peace!

Will you hold your jaw!

How did our grandpas fashion the law?"

Said the Knight, Sir Stodge, as he opened his Book, "When the goods were cheap then the goods we took."

So they fined the Glug with the wart on his nose For wearing a wart with his everyday clothes.

And the goods were brought home thro' a Glug named Ghones;

And the Ogs went home with their loads of stones, Which they landed with glee in the land of Podge.

Do you notice the dodge?

Not yet did the Glugs, nor the Knight, Sir Stodge.

In the following Summer the Ogs came back With a cargo of eight-day clocks, And hand-painted screens, and sewing machines, And mangles, and scissors, and socks.

And they said, "For these excellent things we bring We are ready to take more stones;

And in bricks or road-metal For goods you will settle Indented by your Mister Ghones."

Cried the Glugs praisingly, "Why how amazingly Smart of industrious Ghones!"

And the King said, "Hum," and the Queen said, "Oo!

That curtain!

What a bee-ootiful blue!"

But a Glug stood up with some very large ears, And said, "There is more in this thing than appears!

And we ought to be taxing those goods of the Ogs, Or our industries soon will be gone to the dogs."

And the King said, "Bosh!

You're un-Gluggish and rude!"

And the Queen said, "What an absurd attitude!"

Then the Glugs cried, "Down with political quacks!

How did our grandpas look at a tax?"

So the Knight, Sir Stodge, he opened his Book.

"No tax," said he, "wherever I look."

Then they fined the Glug with the prominent ears For being old-fashioned by several years;

And the Ogs went home with the stones, full-steam.

Did you notice the scheme?

Nor yet did the Glugs in their dreamiest dreams.

Then every month to the land of the Gosh The Ogs, they continued to come, With buttons and hooks, and medical books, And rotary engines, and rum, Large cases with labels, occasional tables, Hair tonic and fiddles and 'phones;

And the Glugs, while copncealing their joy in the dealing, Paid promptly in nothing but stones.

Why, it was screamingly Laughable, seemingly--- Asking for nothing but stones!

And the King said, "Haw!"

and the Queen said, "Oh!

Our drawing-room now is a heavenly show Of large overmantels, and whatnots, and chairs, And a statue of Splosh at the head of the stairs!"

But a Glug stood up with a cast in his eye, And he said, "Far too many baubles we buy;

With all the Gosh factories closing their doors, And importers' warehouses lining our shores."

But the Glugs cried, "Down with such meddlesome fools!

What did our grandpas lay down in their rules?"

And the Knight, Sir Stodge, he opened his Book: "To Cheapness," he said, "was the road they took."

Then every Glug who was not too fat Turned seventeen handsprings, and jumped on his hat.

They fined the Glug with the cast in his eye For looking both ways--which he did not deny-- And for having no visible precedent, which Is a crime in the poor and a fault in the rich.

So the Glugs continued, with greed and glee, To buy cheap clothing, and pills, and tea;

Till every Glug in the land of Gosh Owned three clean shirts and a fourth in the wash.

But they all grew idle, and fond of ease, And easy to swindle, and hard to please;

And the voice of Joi was a lonely voice, When he railed at Gosh for its foolish choice.

But the great King grinned, and the good Queen gushed, As the goods of the Ogs were madly rushed.

And the Knight, Sir Stodge, with a wave of his hand, Declared it a happy and prosperous land.

IV. SYM, THE SON OF JOI

Now Joi, the rebel, he had a son In far, far Gosh where the tall trees wave.

Said Joi: "In Gosh there shall yet be one To scorn this life of a self-made slave;

To spurn the law of the Knight, Sir Stodge, And end the rule of the great King Splosh;

Who shall warn the Glugs of their crafty dodge, And at last bring peace, sweet peace, to Gosh."

Said he: "Whenever the kind sun showers His golden treasure on grateful flowers, With upturned faces and hearts bowed low, The Glugs shall know what the wild things know."

Said he: "Wherever the broad fields smile, They shall walk with clean minds, free of guile;

They shall scoff aloud at the call of Greed, And turn to their labours and never heed."

So Joi had a son, and his name was Sym;

And his eyes were wide as the eyes of Truth;

And there came to the wondering mind of him Long thoughts of the riddle that vexes youth.

And, "Father," he said, "in the mart's loud din Is there aught of pleasure?

Do some find joy?"

But his father tilted the beardless chin, And looked in the eyes of the questing boy.

Said he: "Whenever the fields are green, Lie still, where the wild rose fashions a screen, While the brown thrush calls to his love-wise mate, And know what they profit who trade with Hate."

Said he: "Whenever the great skies spread, In the beckoning vastness overhead, A tent for the blue wren building a nest, Then, down in the heart of you, learn what's best."

And there came to Sym as he walked afield Deep thoughts of the world and the folk of Gosh.

He saw the idols to which they kneeled;

He marked them cringe to the name of Splosli.

Is it meet," he asked, "that a soul should crawl To a purple robe or a gilded chair?"

But his father walked to the garden's wall And stooped to a rose-bush flowering there.

Said he: "Whenever a bursting bloom Looks up to the sun, may a soul find room For a measure of awe at the wondrous birth Of one more treasure to this glad earth."

Said he: "Whenever a dewdrop clings To a gossamer thread, and glitters and swings, Deep in humility bow your head To a thing for a blundering rnortal's dread."

And there came to Sym in his later youth, With the first clear glance in the face of guile, Thirst for knowledge and thoughts of truth, Of gilded baubles, and things worth while.

And he said, "There is much that a Glug should know;

But his mind is clouded, his years are few."

Then joi, the father, he answered low As his thoughts ran back to the youth he knew.

Said he: "Whenever the West wind stirs, And birds in feathers and beasts in furs Steal out to dance in the glade, lie still: Let your heart teach you what it will."

Said he: "Whenever the moonlight creeps Thro' inlaced boughs, a'nd a shy star peeps Adown from its crib in the cradling sky, Know of their folly who fear to die."

New interest came to the mind of Sym, As 'midst his fellows he lived and toiled.

But the ways of the Glug folk puzzled him;

For some won honour, while some were foiled;

Yet all were filled with a vague unrest As they climbed their trees in an endless search.

But joi, the father, he mocked their quest, When he marked a Glug on his hard-won perch.

Said he: "Whenever these tales are heard Of the Feasible Dog or the Guffer Bird, Then laugh and laugh till the fat tears roll To the roots of the joy-bush deep in your soul.

When you see them squat on the tree-tops high, Scanning for ever that heedless sky, Lie flat on your back on the good, green earth And roar till the great vault echoes your mirth."

As he walked in the city, to Sym there came Sounds envenomed with fear and hate, Shouts of anger and words of shame, As Glug blamed Glug for his woeful state.

"This blame?"

said Sym, "Is it mortal's right To blame his fellow for aught he be?"

But the father said, "Do we blame the night When darkness gathers and none can see?"

Said he: "Whenever there springs from earth A plant all crooked and marred at birth, Shall we, unlearned in the Gardener's scheme, Blame plant or earth for the faults that seem?"

Said he: "Whenever your wondering eyes Look out on the glory of earth and skies, Shall you, 'mid the blessing of fields a-bloom, Fling blame at the blind man, prisoned in gloom?"

So Joi had a son, and his name was Sym;

Far from the ken of the great King Splosh.

And small was the Glugs' regard of him, Mooning along in the streets of Gosh.

But many a creature by field and ford Shared in the schooling of that strange boy, Dreaming and planning to gather and hoard Knowledge of all things precious to Joi.