The Mayor of Scuttleton

The Mayor of Scuttleton burned his nose

Trying to warm his copper toes;

He lost his money and spoiled his will

By signing his name with an icicle-quill;

He went bare-headed, and held his breath,

And frightened his grandame most to death;

He loaded a shovel, and tried to shoot,

And killed the calf in the leg of his boot;

He melted a snow-bird, and formed the habit

Of dancing jigs with a sad Welsh rabbit;

He lived on taffy, and taxed the town;

And read his newspaper upside down;

Then he sighed, and hung his hat on a feather,

And bade the townspeople come together;

But the worst of it all was, nobody knew

What the Mayor of Scuttleton next would do.

Source: She Wields a Pen: American Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century (University of Iowa Press, 1997)