A Song About Myself

I.

There was a naughty boy,

  A naughty boy was he,

He would not stop at home,

  He could not quiet be-

    He took

    In his knapsack

    A book

    Full of vowels

    And a shirt

    With some towels,

    A slight cap

    For night cap,

    A hair brush,

    Comb ditto,

    New stockings

    For old ones

    Would split O!

    This knapsack

    Tight at's back

    He rivetted close

  And followed his nose

    To the north,

    To the north,

  And follow'd his nose

    To the north.

II.

There was a naughty boy

  And a naughty boy was he,

For nothing would he do

  But scribble poetry-

    He took

    An ink stand

    In his hand

    And a pen

    Big as ten

    In the other,

    And away

    In a pother

    He ran

    To the mountains

    And fountains

    And ghostes

    And postes

    And witches

    And ditches

    And wrote

    In his coat

    When the weather

    Was cool,

    Fear of gout,

    And without

    When the weather

    Was warm-

    Och the charm

    When we choose

  To follow one's nose

    To the north,

    To the north,

  To follow one's nose

    To the north!

III.

There was a naughty boy

  And a naughty boy was he,

He kept little fishes

  In washing tubs three

    In spite

    Of the might

    Of the maid

    Nor afraid

    Of his Granny-good-

    He often would

    Hurly burly

    Get up early

    And go

    By hook or crook

    To the brook

    And bring home

    Miller's thumb,

    Tittlebat

    Not over fat,

    Minnows small

    As the stall

    Of a glove,

    Not above

    The size

    Of a nice

    Little baby's

    Little fingers-

    O he made

    'Twas his trade

  Of fish a pretty kettle

    A kettle-

    A kettle

  Of fish a pretty kettle

    A kettle!

IV.

There was a naughty boy,

  And a naughty boy was he,

He ran away to Scotland

  The people for to see-

    There he found

    That the ground

    Was as hard,

    That a yard

    Was as long,

    That a song

    Was as merry,

    That a cherry

    Was as red,

    That lead

    Was as weighty,

    That fourscore

    Was as eighty,

    That a door

    Was as wooden

    As in England-

  So he stood in his shoes

    And he wonder'd,

    He wonder'd,

  He stood in his

    Shoes and he wonder'd.

'In a letter to his sister, Keats makes a fresh start with -- "since I scribbled the Song we have walked through a beautiful Country to Kirkcudbright -- at which place I will write you a song about myself." He then proceeds with the very curious piece of doggerel now first given from the manuscript, and excuses himself on the plea of fatigue. My chief purpose in including these verses here is that students may note the variety of the pieces of this class addressed to different correspondents. Compare this with the Devon pieces sent to Haydon, and more particularly with The Gadfly, sent to Tom Keats a little later than this. I presume this piece should be dated the 3rd of July 1818.(stanza 2): This is a genuine autobiographic reminiscence of the time when the young Keatses lived with their grandmother after the death of their parents.(stanza 4): There is an under-current of dissatisfaction with things Caledonian in this fourth stanza; and indeed I do not think Keats ever got entirely rid of this during the whole of the tour, albeit he enjoyed many transient visitations of true enthusiasm inspired both by fine scenery and by associations.~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895.