Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Dorchester Giant
By Oliver Wendell Holmes (18091894)T
A mighty one was he:
He had a wife, but she was a scold,
So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold;
And he had children three.
And the giants were choosing a king;
The people were not democrats then;
They did not talk of the rights of men,
And all that sort of thing.
And fastened them in the pen;
The children roared; quoth the giant, “Be still!”
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill
Rolled back the sound again.
As big as the State House dome;
Quoth he, “There ’s something for you to eat;
So stop your mouths with your ’lection treat,
And wait till your dad comes home.”
And whittled the boughs away;
The boys and their mother set up a shout;
Said he, “You ’re in and you can’t get out,
Bellow as loud as you may.”
As he strode the fields along;
’T is said a buffalo fainted away,
And fell as cold as a lump of clay,
When he heard the giant’s song.
It is not for me to show;
There is many a thing that ’s twice as queer,
In somebody’s lectures that we hear,
And those are true, you know.
The wife and children sad?
Oh, they are in a terrible rout,
Screaming and throwing their pudding about,
Acting as they were mad.
They flung it over the plain,
And all over Milton and Dorchester too
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw,
They tumbled as thick as rain.
For ages have floated by;
The suet is hard as a marrow bone,
And every plum is turned to stone,
But there the puddings lie.
You ’ll ask me out to ride,
The whole of the story I will tell,
And you may see where the puddings fell,
And pay for the punch beside.