Say't All: Milk

Monday, May 11, 2026

ASTONISHMENT

ASTONISHMENT - A Poem

By G.S.O.

WELL, I do declare, what a terrified stare!

What can be the matter, I say,
That you look so amazed, with your eyebrows upraised,

And your master's milk running away?

O is it the rector, policeman, or spectre?

Or is it a lad for a spree

Got up in full fig, and a mask as a brigand?

Or is it an owl in the tree?

Or is it a squeak that has whitened your cheek,

And made your hands useless with dread?

Or the rustle of leaves in the wind by the eaves?

Or a rat running over your head?

Or are you afraid of a shadow that's made

By the moon as she peeps through a chink?

Come, hold the pan tight, or a supperless night,

And a flogging, will greet you, I think.

Though he walks with a swagger, a lath for a dagger,

Jack Brown is Jack Brown, and no more;

A goblin is nought but a fanciful thought,

That squeak was a mouse, or a door.

And no one need mind the stout Constable Bind,

If he hasn't done anything ill;

Good boys, we are told, as a lion are bold,

When he roams the dark waste at his will.

To the lad full of fear the hobgoblins appear,

But the hero they never molest;

He laughs at white sheets and such moonshine deceits,

For he minds but his work and his rest.

Too busy for ghosts, for his tasks come in hosts,

And a hundred odd jobs he must do:

Too sleepy at night to lie shaking in fright,

When the solemn old owl says, 'To-whoo!

Come, Bobby, look up or the kittens will sup

All the precious milk wasting away;

Do mind what you're at, or the thanks of the cat

Are all you will get, boy, to-day!

Boys want all their senses for tables and tenses,

For their games and a thousand things more;

Your wits, Bob, they dream-don t you hear the

white stream

As it falls with a splash on the floor?

And here I must stare like a fool, I declare!

Only think, Mister Hunt, what you've done!

While the world wants a book like a soft I must

look,

And the milk that is running, must run!

Yes, so it must be; then take warning by me,

Mind you always look knowing and clever,

Be you youngsters or men, lest some Hunt come

again,

And make you a greenhorn for ever!

References:

Chatterbox 1877

A TAME fox was kept in a stable-yard and struck up a friendship with the dogs, but could never get the cats to approach him. Being very sensitive to smell, they could not bear his odour, and would not even walk upon any spot upon which the fox had been standing. The crafty animal seeing that the cats would not come near him, used his knowledge to cheat them of their breakfast. As soon as the servant poured out the cats allowance of milk, the fox would run to the spot and walk round the saucer ,well knowing, that the rightful owners would not touch it. Day after day the cats lost their milk, until the trick was found out, and the milk placed in a spot where the fox could not reach it. After he had had been stopped from robbing the cats, he tried his cunning on the dairymaid, as she was bringing the pails from milking. As she was passing along, the fox went up to her, and brushed himself against one of the milkpans. The milk became so tainted with the smell of the fox, that the maid dared not take it to the house, and thoughtlessly poured it into a pan, and gave it to him. The crafty animal repeated this trick several times, but when he found that the spoiled milk was given to the pigs, instead of to himself, he gave up his attempts.

References:

Chatterbox 1877