bout de papier, Vol. 18, No. 4 (2001-2002) — Winter 2001/2002, p. 29
The following is a copy of a limerick of many years ago about the United Nations. It was found by Geoffrey Pearson among his father’s papers and submitted by William Barton, Senior Editorial Board member. They concluded that it must have been written by a Canadian. We challenge bout de papier readers to identify the names in the poem and to name the author of United Nations Jabberwocky.
“Twas greenwich, and the gromyko
Did byrnes and trygve in the lie:
All evatt was the vandeberg,
And the thomas connally.
Avoid its clauses if you can!
Beware the yalta bird, and shun
The red azerbaijan!”
He took his trieste sword in hand:
Long time the mukdan foe he sought –
So rested he by the nuclear tree,
And fissioned there in thought.
And, as in fulton thought he stood,
The Molotov, with ears aflame,
Came brettoning through the plenary wood,
And vetoed as it came!
Offside! No score! And more and more
His iran blade went snicker-snack!
He cleared his throat, and sent a note
Requesting an answer back.
“And hast thou dunn the Molotov?
Come to my arms, my bullitt boy!
Oh atherton! Oh culbertson!”
He murpheid in his joy.
*Twas greenwich, and the gromyko
Did byrnes and trygve in the lie:
All evatt was the vandenberg,
And the thomas connally.
Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and
What Alice Found There, 1872)
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
’Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
’And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 18, No. 4 (2001-2002) — Winter 2001/2002, p. 29. Read the rest of this issue →
