Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
816. Robinson Crusoe
By Charles Edward Carryl
    THE NIGHT was thick and hazy
    When the Piccadilly Daisy
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea;
    And I think the water drowned ’em,
    For they never, never found ’em,        5
And I know they did n’t come ashore with me.
    Oh! ’twas very sad and lonely
    When I found myself the only
Population on this cultivated shore;
    But I ’ve made a little tavern        10
    In a rocky little cavern,
And I sit and watch for people at the door.
    I spent no time in looking
    For a girl to do my cooking,
As I ’m quite a clever hand at making stews;        15
    But I had that fellow Friday
    Just to keep the tavern tidy,
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes.
    I have a little garden
    That I ’m cultivating lard in,        20
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry;
    For I live on toasted lizards,
    Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards,
And I ’m really very fond of beetle-pie.
    The clothes I had were furry,        25
    And it made me fret and worry
When I found the moths were eating off the hair;
    And I had to scrape and sand ’em,
    And I boiled ’em and I tanned ’em,
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear.        30
    I sometimes seek diversion
    In a family excursion
With the few domestic animals you see;
    And we take along a carrot
    As refreshments for the parrot,        35
And a little can of jungleberry tea.
    Then we gather as we travel
    Bits of moss and dirty gravel,
And we chip off little specimens of stone;
    And we carry home as prizes        40
    Funny bugs of handy sizes,
Just to give the day a scientific tone.
    If the roads are wet and muddy
    We remain at home and study,—
For the Goat is very clever at a sum,—        45
    And the Dog, instead of fighting,
    Studies ornamental writing,
While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum.
    We retire at eleven,
    And we rise again at seven;        50
And I wish to call attention, as I close,
    To the fact that all the scholars
    Are correct about their collars,
And particular in turning out their toes.


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