In Frogland

Wriggle, wriggle, Pollywog!
     You're a funny-looking fish,
Swimming round that mossy log!
     Did you ever dream or, wish 
You might one day be a frog, 
     Like that fellow, green and cool,
With his lovely bulging eyes,
     Sitting by your rushy pool.
Winking slow, and catching flies?
     That's your papa keeping school;
               If you know him you are wise!

Hark! he's giving out a course 
     In geography, I guess.
Oh, but hasn't he got hoarse 
     In this marshy wilderness!
"Kennebunk! Cuttyhunk! Mauch Chunk !
     This and thus is what he says, 
And his cold gets worse and worse.

Wriggle. pretty Pollywog.
     While so full of life and giggle,
Hurry not to climb that log
     Where you, grown up. grave, and big, 'll 
Be a bulge-eyed, hump-back frog,
     With no caudal fin to wriggle, 
How provoking! and just croaking:
               "Kennebunk, Cuttyhunk, Mauch Chunk”