Classic Poem

When Maggie once to Oxford came,
On tour as " Bootles' Baby, "
She said, " I'll see this place of fame,
However dull the day be. "

So with her friend she visited
The sights that it was rich in:
And first of all she popped her head
Inside the Christ Church kitchen.

The Cooks around that little child
Stood waiting in a ring:
And every time that Maggie smiled
Those Cooks began to sing —
Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!

" Roast, boil and bake,
For Maggie's sake:
Bring cutlets fine
For her to dine,
Meringues so sweet
For her to eat —
For Maggie may be
Bootles' Baby! "

Then hand in hand in pleasant talk
They wandered and admired
The Hall, Cathedral and Broad Walk,
Till Maggie's feet were tired:


To Worcester Garden next they strolled,
Admired its quiet lake:
Then to St. John, a college old,
Their devious way they take.

In idle mood they sauntered round
Its lawn so green and flat,
And in that garden Maggie found
A lovely Pussy-Cat!

A quarter of an hour they spent
In wandering to and fro:
And everywhere that Maggie went,
The Cat was sure to go —
Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!

" Maiow! Maiow!
Come, make your bow,
Take off your hats,
Ye Pussy-Cats!
And purr and purr,
To welcome her ,
For Maggie may be
Bootles' Baby! "

So back to Christ Church, not too late
For them to go and see
A Christ Church undergraduate,
Who gave them cakes and tea.

Next day she entered with her guide
The garden called " Botanic, "
And there a fierce Wild Boar she spied,
Enough to cause a panic:

But Maggie didn't mind, not she,
She would have faced, alone,
That fierce wild boar, because, you see,
The thing was made of stone.

On Magdalen walls they saw a face
That filled her with delight,
A giant face, that made grimace
And grinned with all its might.

A little friend, industrious,
Pulled upwards all the while
The corner of its mouth, and thus
He helped that face to smile!

" How nice, " thought Maggie, " it would be
If I could have a friend
To do that very thing for me
And make my mouth turn up with glee,
By pulling at one end. "

In Magdalen Park the deer are wild
With joy, that Maggie brings
Some bread a friend had given the child,
To feed the pretty things.

They flock round Maggie without fear:
They breakfast and they lunch.
They dine, they sup, those happy deer —
Still, as they munch and munch,
Shouting the Battle-cry of Freedom!

" Yes, Deer are we,
And dear is she!
We love this child
So sweet and mild:
We all rejoice
At Maggie's voice:
We all are fed
With Maggie's bread ...
For Maggie may be
Bootles' Baby! "

They met a Bishop on their way ...
A Bishop large as life,
With loving smile that seemed to say
" Will Maggie be my wife? "

Maggie thought not , because, you see,
She was so very young,
And he was old as old could be ...
So Maggie held her tongue.

" My Lord, she's Bootles' Baby, we
Are going up and down, "
Her friend explained, " that she may see
The sights of Oxford Town. "

" Now say what kind of place it is, "
The Bishop gaily cried.
" The best place in the Provinces! "
That little maid replied.

Away, next morning, Maggie went
From Oxford town: but yet
The happy hours she there had spent
She could not soon forget.

The train is gone, it rumbles on:
The engine-whistle screams;
But Maggie deep in rosy sleep ...
And softly in her dreams,
Whispers the Battle-cry of Freedom.

" Oxford, good-bye! "
She seems to sigh.
" You dear old City,
With gardens pretty,
And lanes and flowers,
And college-towers,
And Tom's great Bell ...
Farewell — farewell:
For Maggie may be
Bootles' Baby! "