NB: This was originally on the main site but for some reason now no longer displays so it’s been imported to our blog.
Little Tommy Timbertoes amongst his other feats
Once ate a box of dominoes, He thought that they were sweets.
They gave him such a dreadful pain, the worst he’d ever felt,
And where he felt the pain the most was where he wore his belt.
The dominoes that Tommy ate were white with round black dots
And very soon the little chap came out all over in spots.
They called the local doctor in and when he saw Tom shiver he said
He thought the double six had settled on his liver.
The poulticed him with poultices and filled him up with pills
And gave him draughts of nasty stuff like castor oil and squills.
At last they called the specialist to put the matter right.
He gave Tom more dominoes but black with spots of white.
He said white spots would come on him exactly on the black
And this would cure poor Thomas of his terrible attack.
But though they waited days and days for those white spots to show
They did not show themselves at all and the black ones didn’t go.
In spite of all their efforts poor little Tommy died
Because the draughts and dominoes were jumbled up inside
Hello. Is anyone still there?
A rather aged friend of mine recited this from memory recently, She didn’t know who had written it, but I thought from the style it might be Marriott Edgar. Yet I cannot find it anywhere in any listings of his oeuvre.
Do you have any idea who wrote it, please?
With kind regards,
Bob
Hi Bob,
Thank you for the comment. Unfortunately I do not know who wrote this poem. I found it (typed on a sheet of paper) in a family photo album many years back.
Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.
David
My Grandpa who died in 1980 used to recite this to us as kids. I’ve just been googling it whilst reminiscing and came across your post. He lived in Yorkshire, bit no idea where the poem came from.
My mother recited this poem to me when I was a child in the ’50s. No idea who wrote it, but it may go back a while, given that my mom likely learned it from her mother who was born at the turn of the last century. My mother recited many of these Victorian morality poems, for example the one about the boy who found a penny, bought a pack of Woodbines and lay on the tramway lines. Or the one about Kaiser Bill petitioning to get into heaven and being directed down to hell.
My mother’s family was from the West Midlands, UK.
Barry