Then, Oh, what a wonderful Glug he'd make!
We shall teach this laddie to play life's game
With a different mind and a definite aim:
A Glug in appearance, yet not the same."

But the practical aunt said, "Fudge! You fool!
We'll pack up his dinner and send him to school.
He shall learn about two-times and parsing and capes,
And how to make money with inches on tapes.
We'll apprentice him then to the drapery trade,
Where, I've heard it reported, large profits are made;
Besides, he can sell us cheap buttons and braid."

So poor young Sym, he was sent to school,
Where the first thing taught is the Golden Rule.
"Do unto others," the teacher said . . .
Then suddenly stopped and scratched his head.
"You may look up the rest in a book," said he.
"At present it doesn't occur to me;
But do it, whatever it happens to be."

"And now," said the teacher, "the day's task brings
Consideration of practical things.
If a man makes a profit of fifteen pounds
On one week's takings from two milk rounds,
How many . . ." And Sym went dreaming away
To the sunlit lands where the field-mice play,
And wrens hold revel the livelong day.

He walked in the welcoming fields alone,
While from far, far away came the pedagogue's drone:
"If a man makes . . .Multiply . . . Abstract nouns . . .
From B take . . .Population of towns . . .
Rods, poles or perches . . . Derived from Greek
Oh, the hawthorn buds came out this week,
And robins are nesting down by the creek.

So Sym was head of his class not once;
And his aunt repeatedly dubbed him "Dunce."
But, "Give him a chance," said his father, Joi.
"His head is abnormally large for a boy."
But his aunt said, "Piffie! It's crammed with bosh!
Why, he don't know the rivers and mountains of Gosh,
Nor the names of the nephews of good King Splosh!"

In Gosh, when a youth gets an obstinate look,
And copies his washing-bill into a book,
And blackens his boot-heels, and frowns at a joke,
"Ah, he's getting sense," say the elderly folk.
But Sym, he would laugh when he ought to be sad;
Said his aunt, "Lawk-a-mussy! What's wrong with the lad?
He romps with the puppies, and talks to the ants,
And keeps his loose change in his second-best pants,
And stumbles all over my cauliflower plants!"

"There is wisdom in that," laughed the father, Joi.
But the aunt said, "Toity!" and, "Drat the boy!"
"He shall play," said the father, "some noble part.
Who