The Emperor’s Rhyme

The King of Peru

(Who was Emperor too)

Had a sort of a rhyme

Which was useful to know,

If he felt very shy

When a stranger came by,

Or they asked him the time

When his watch didn’t go;

Or supposing he fell

(By mistake) down a well,

Or he tumbled when skating

And sat on his hat,

Or perhaps wasn’t told,

Till his porridge was cold,

That his breakfast was waiting

Or something like that;

Oh, whenever the Emperor

Got into a temper, or

Felt himself sulky or sad,

He would murmur and murmur,

Until he felt firmer,

This curious rhyme which he had:

Eight eights are sixty-four;

Multiply by seven.

When it’s done,

Carry one,

And take away eleven.

Nine nines are eighty-one;

Multiply by three.

If it’s more,

Carry four,

And then it’s time for tea.

So whenever the Queen

Took his armour to clean,

And she didn’t remember

To use any starch;

Or his birthday (in May)

Was a horrible day,

Being wet as November

And windy as March;

Or, if sitting in state

With the Wise and the Great,

He just happened to hiccup

While signing his name,

Or the Queen gave a cough,

When his crown tumbled off

As he bent down to pick up

A pen for the same;

Oh, whenever the Emperor

Got into a temper, or

Felt himself awkward and shy,

He would whisper and whisper,

Until he felt crisper,

This odd little rhyme to the sky:

Eight eights are eighty-one;

Multiply by seven.

If it’s more,

Carry four,

And take away eleven.

Nine nines are sixty-four;

Multiply by three.

When it’s done,

Carry one,

And then it’s time for tea.