“Exactly so. Well, then, ‘_mimsy_’ is ‘flimsy and miserable’ (there’s another portmanteau for you). And a ‘_borogove_’ is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round—something like a live mop.” “And then ‘_mome raths_’?” said Alice. “I’m afraid I’m giving you a great deal of trouble.” “Well, a ‘_rath_’ is a sort of green pig: but ‘_mome_’ I’m not certain about. I think it’s short for ‘from home’—meaning that they’d lost their way, you know.” “And what does ‘_outgrabe_’ mean?” “Well, ‘_outgrabing_’ is something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle: however, you’ll hear it done, maybe—down in the wood yonder—and when you’ve once heard it you’ll be _quite_ content. Who’s been repeating all that hard stuff to you?” “I read it in a book,” said Alice. “But I had some poetry repeated to me, much easier than that, by—Tweedledee, I think it was.” “As to poetry, you know,” said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his great hands, “_I_ can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to that—” “Oh, it needn’t come to that!” Alice hastily said, hoping to keep him from beginning. “The piece I’m going to repeat,” he went on without noticing her remark, “was written entirely for your amusement.” Alice felt that in that case she really _ought_ to listen to it, so she sat down, and said “Thank you” rather sadly. “In winter, when the fields are white, I sing this song for your delight— only I don’t sing it,” he added, as an explanation. “I see you don’t,” said Alice. “If you can _see_ whether I’m singing or not, you’ve sharper eyes than most.” Humpty Dumpty remarked severely. Alice was silent. “In spring, when woods are getting green, I’ll try and tell you what I mean.” “Thank you very much,” said Alice. “In summer, when the days are long, Perhaps you’ll understand the song: In autumn, when the leaves are brown, Take pen and ink, and write it down.” “I will, if I can remember it so long,” said Alice. “You needn’t go on making remarks like that,” Humpty Dumpty said: “they’re not sensible, and they put me out.” “I sent a message to the fish: I told them ‘This is what I wish.’ The little fishes of the sea, They sent an answer back to me. The little fishes’ answer was ‘We cannot do it, Sir, because—’” “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” said Alice. “It gets easier further on,” Humpty Dumpty replied. “I sent to them again to say ‘It will be better to obey.’ The fishes answered with a grin, ‘Why, what a temper you are in!’ I told them once, I told them twice: They would not listen to advice. I took a kettle large and new, Fit for the deed I had to do. My heart went hop, my heart went thump; I filled the kettle at the pump. Then some one came to me and said, ‘The little fishes are in bed.’ I said to him, I said it plain, ‘Then you must wake them up again.’ I said it very loud and clear; I went and shouted in his ear.”