Old PETER let her scold and swear-- Old PETER, bless him, didn't care. "My dear, your rage is wasted quite-- Observe, I disappear from sight!" A well-bred fairy (so I've heard) Is always faithful to her word: Old PETER vanished like a shot, But then--_his suit of clothes did not_. For when conferred the fairy slim Invisibility on him, She popped away on fairy wings, Without referring to his "things." So there remained a coat of blue, A vest and double eyeglass too, His tail, his shoes, his socks as well, His pair of--no, I must not tell. Old MRS. PETER soon began To see the failure of his plan, And then resolved (I quote the bard) To "hoist him with his own petard." Old PETER woke next day and dressed, Put on his coat and shoes and vest, His shirt and stock--_but could not find His only pair of_--never mind! [Illustration] Old PETER was a decent man, And though he twigged his lady's plan, Yet, hearing her approaching, he Resumed invisibility. "Dear MRS. P., my only joy," Exclaimed the horrified old boy; "Now give them up, I beg of you-- You know what I'm referring to!" But no; the cross old lady swore She'd keep his--what I said before-- To make him publicly absurd; And MRS. PETER kept her word. The poor old fellow had no rest; His coat, his stock, his shoes, his vest, Were all that now met mortal eye-- The rest, invisibility! "Now, madam, give them up, I beg-- I've bad rheumatics in my leg; Besides, until you do, it's plain I cannot come to sight again! "For though some mirth it might afford To see my clothes without their lord, Yet there would rise indignant oaths If he were seen without his clothes!" But no; resolved to have her quiz, The lady held her own--and his-- And PETER left his humble cot To find a pair of--you know what. But--here's the worst of this affair--- Whene'er he came across a pair Already placed for him to don, He was too stout to get them on! So he resolved at once to train, And walked and walked with all his main; For years he paced this mortal earth, To bring himself to decent girth. At night, when all around is still, You'll find him pounding up a hill; And shrieking peasants whom he meets, Fall down in terror on the peats! Old PETER walks through wind and rain Resolved to train, and train, and train, Until he weighs twelve stone or so-- And when he does, I'll let you know. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE GREAT OAK TREE