Question

WHEN shall we sinners do quite right,
The politicians cease their fight,
Making queer deals that rob the town?
When will the breaded veal fry brown?

Answer

When the little chickens cackle;
When the ducky daddies quackle;
When the firecrackers crackle
On the hilltop by the stump;
When the owly owls are screeching;
When aunt Susan's hair is bleaching;
When the preacher, he is preaching,
In the pulpit near the pump.

Question

When will the days be always fine,
The river take another turn?
When will the ocean have no brine?
When will the pancakes cease to burn?

Answer

When the attic beams are creaking;
When the micey mice are squeaking;
When the coffee pot is leaking
On the table near the door;
When the angry sea is breaking;
When my large back tooth is aching;
When my mother dear is making
A bread poultice for my jaw.

Question

When will the frying-pan be graceful?
When comes the crack of doom?
When will quinine be less distasteful?
When will the toadstools bloom?

Answer

When little Ikie's teeth are munching
Dodo wings for a mid-day snack;
When all his soul is wrapt with crunching,
Washing it down with apple jack,
Licking his lips when his father says, "No, no!
Ikie dear, no second helping of dodo."

Question.

When will the earthquake stop its quake?
When will the pudding never bake?
When will the snow-man rake the flake?
When will the frog pond be a lake?

Answer

When the bagpipes warble flutelike,
To the song of Gypsy Toot Mike;
When the women stop their cute hike,
To show their strength and pluck;
When the doctors are all quacked mad;
When the frying-pan is cracked bad;
When we all forget the hacked fad,
          Our story of hard luck.

So let us all be carefree,
And over our pink tea
Resolve to let no spite bee
Come poison our delight.
Stand pat, let's all be jolly,
No Mollie Coddle Nolly;
The top notch of our folly
Is grumble day and night.
          Don't grumble, don't stumble.
          Hold, hold! Don't scold,
          Don't fight! Keep bright. Amen.

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