And, alas, for Milgenwater!
She, the loveliest of Noodles,
Was so scorched up by the Fever,
So much shook up by the Ague,
That she spoke nor moved no longer,
And our hero, disappointed,
Wrapt her in a heavy blanket,
In the very neatest manner,
'Cording to the village custom;
And they bore her to the river,
In a long, and sad procession;
And they stood and dropped her in it,
As their custom was to do so;
And the eager waters clasped her,
Bore her body, as it had done,
In the case of him, the piper,
In the case of him, the fat man,
To the land of Ponee-rag-bag,
To the regions farther downward.
"Float on down," said Milgenwater, "Float on down, my duck, my darling,
Very soon, I'll follow after,
To the regions down the river,
I shall be along, my darling,
Be along, my duck, directly,
Be along, my duck, my darling--
Float on, float, and keep a-floating."
MILGENWATER'S DEPARTURE TO PONEE-RAG-BAG IN
HIS SKIFF.
GOING now among the people,
On the banks there, standing, gazing,
"Lo!" he told them, "I am going,
I am going, now, to leave you,
Going down the Watta-puddel,
To the region of the sunset,
To the hole the sun drops into,
Over yonder red horizon—
Where you've, often, seen me standing,
And conversing with the full-moon--
And I shan't be back, at present,
Not for quite a lengthy season;
Take care of yourselves, my people,
Take much care," said Milgenwater.
Then he quickly pushed his skiff off,
Got aboard and floated in it,
Down the river's rushing current,
In the sunlight, and the moonlight,
Floating towards the Western sunset-
On his silent journey floated;
And the people standing, gazing,
Saw him bobbing, bobbing, bobbing,
Up and down upon the river,
Saw his Lawni-weeper waving,
Saw his handkerchief a-waving,
Far adown the Watta-puddel;
And they all continued calling,
"Good-bye, good-bye, Milgenwater;"
And the gray goose, Dab-si-di-do,
O'er the troubled waters flying,
Screamed out, "Good-bye, Milgenwater;"
And the Yalla-gal, the woodchuck,
Squeaked out, "Good bye," Milgenwater; And the melancholy bull-frog,
Brek-c-kex-co-ax, the ball-frog,
On the river's slimy margin,
Echoed, "Good-bye," Milgenwater.
So it was that Milgenwater,
Him as is our story's hero,
Floated down the Rushing river,
Floated thro' the fields and forests,
Thro' the vales and mountains floated,
Ever bobbing, bobbing, bobbing,
In the moonlight and the sunlight,
To the country of the sunset.
To the regions farther downward,
To the land of Ponec-rag-bag,
Far adown the Rushing river-
Rushing River, Watta-puddel.
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