Of all the things to make you stare,—

A Pumpkin-Head, I do declare!

That such a thing could come about

One almost feels inclined to doubt.

The story’s sad, if true it be:

I’ll tell it as ’twas told to me.

A man once lived whose name was Nocket,

Who dearly loved to fill his pocket,

And for the poor he had small pity.

By trade a hatter in the city,

He from his shop went up and down

To his cottage out of town;

And in his garden took delight,

And worked in it with all his might.

A treatise he had written too

On kitchen-gardening. So you

May well suppose he heard with glee

A garden-show there was to be;

And that a prize among the rest

Would be awarded for the best

And largest pumpkin at the show.

“Ha! ha!” thought Nocket, “now I’ll grow

A pumpkin shall be such a size

It will be sure to gain the prize.”

In hothouse, where the heat was greater

Almost than in Mount Etna’s crater,

The pumpkin grew, and grew so fine

That Nocket asked his friends to dine.

And showed it to them all with pride.

“Magnificent!” the friends replied;

Excepting one, who looked quite sly,

And said, “You’ll see mine, by-and-by.”