Solomon Solomon lived in a house
Whose little red roof had a leak;
Its dusty old shutters were gusty with mutters,
Its gate had a shivery squeak.
No stranger or friend ever entered his door,
Which suited old Solomon, quite;
Alone (but not lonely) he did one thing only,
He read to himself day and night.
One evening, it chanced as he sat in his bed,
Propped up in his quilt with a tale,
A rumble and mumble and ominous grumble
Announced an incredible gale!
It loosened the shutters, it toppled the gate,
It hoisted the trees from the lawn!
It swooped like a giant, rip-roaring, defiant,
And scattered things hither and yon!
But Solomon Solomon chuckled and crowed
And read to himself with delight,
So he failed to perceive when his chimney took leave
And his roof sailed away like a kite!
Nor did he observe when the wind picked him up
Where he rested so cozy and warm,
And blew him, unheeding (still placidly reading!),
Aloft on the wings of the storm!
Above his abode the good gentleman rode
Unconscious of tremors and jars;
In nightcap and tassel, past cottage and castle,
He happily headed for Mars!
The crowd was excited, the blue jays affrighted,
As Solomon (reading) flew by;
And the eagles and hawks with imperious squawks
Disputed his right to the sky!
The Milky Way curdled as over he hurdled!
Astronomers, finding his range,
In awe and surprise opened scholarly eyes
At the sight of a comet so strange!
But just about day, when the wind died away,
He started a sudden descent!
Without worry or care he tobogganed the air,
Turning a page as he went.
Yes, head over heels Mr. Solomon fell,
And contrary heels over head,
Until with a flip he concluded his trip,
Somersaulting right back into bed!
Then yawning and stretching, he murmured: "Ho-hum!
What a stay-at-home body I be!"
And closing his book with a faraway look,
"I wish I could travel!" said he.