Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Clever Idiot

The Clever Idiot.

A boy, as Nursery records tell,
Had dropped his drumstick in a well;
He had good sense enough to know
He would be beaten for't, and so
Slyly (though silly from his cradle)
Took from the shelf a silver ladle,
And in the water down it goes,
After the drumstick, I suppose.

The thing was missed, the servants blamed
But in a week no longer named;
Now this not suiting his designs,
A silver cup he next purloins,
(To aid his plan he never stopped)
And in the water down it dropped.

This caused some words and much inquiry.
And made his parents rather iry;
Both for a week were vexed and cross,
And then—submitted to the loss.
At length, to follow up his plan,
Our little, clever, idiot man,
His father's favourite silver waiter,
Next cast into the watery crater.

Now this, indeed, was what the cook
And butler could not overlook;
And all the servants of the place
Were searched, and held in much disgrace.
The boy now called out, "Cook, here—Nell;
What's that so shining in the well?"

This was enough to give a hint
That the lost treasures might be in't;
So for a man with speed they sent,
Who down the well directly went.
They listen with expectant ear,
At last these joyful words they hear:
"Oh here's the ladle, and the cup,
And waiter too—so draw me up."

"Hold," quoth the boy, "a moment stay,
Bring something else that's in your way,"
Adding, with self-approving grin,
"My drumstick, now your hand is in."