Harry Graham [1874-1936] is best known for his wickedly humorous collections of light verse, ‘Ruthless Rhymes’. Graham was born in England in 1874 to reasonably well-to-do parents.

He was engaged to the American actress Ethel Barrymore, great aunt of Drew Barrymore, but she added him to her list of spurned suitors, among them Winston Churchill. He continued to write popular fiction, poetry and music lyrics such as those in White Horse Inn.

Graham published his Ruthless Rhymes in 1898 under the pseudonym Col. D. Streamer.

These were described by The Times, in an editorial that compared him to Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll and W. S. Gilbert, as “that enchanted world where there are no values nor standards of conduct or feeling, and where the plainest sense is the plainest nonsense”.

The Ruthless Rhymes are mainly short satirical poems, short enough to include in a tweet if you exclude the often unnecessary titles. One is about a boy named Billy. Billy became Willie and a new form was born known as a Little Willie, usually featuring Little Willie and the terrible things he did or the terrible ends that he came to Little Willie.

Little Willie Poems

Willie in the best of sashes,
Fell in the fire and burned to ashes.
By and by the room grew chilly,
Because no one wanted to poke up Willie.

Willie with a thirst for gore,
Nailed the baby to the door.
Mother said, with humor quaint:
“Careful, Will, don’t scratch the paint.”

Little Willie on the tracks
Didn’t hear the engine squeal.
Now the engine’s coming back
Scraping Willie off the wheel.

Willie poisoned Auntie’s tea.
Auntie died in agony.
Uncle came and looked quite vexed.
“Really, Will,” said he, “What next?”

Willie, I regret to state,
Cut his sister into bait.
We miss her when it’s time to dine,
But Willie’s fish taste simply fine.

Willie fell down the elevator,
Wasn’t found till six days later.
Then the neighbors sniffed,
“Gee whiz! What a spoiled child Willie is.”

Willie bashed open baby’s head
To see if brains are gray or red.
What a naughty boy is he
He shall have no jam for tea.

Little Willie from the mirror
Licked the mercury all off
Thinking in his childish error
It would cure his whooping cough.
At the funeral, Willie’s mother
Smartly said to Mrs. Brown,
“Twas a chilly day for Willie
When the mercury went down!”

Willie in the cauldron fell;
See the grief on mother’s brow.
Mother loved her darling well;
Willie’s quite hard-boiled by now.

Willie and two other brats
Licked up all the Rough-on-Rats.
Father said, when mother cried,
“Never mind, they’ll die outside.”

Into the family drinking well
Willie pushed his sister Nell.
She’s there yet, because it kilt her
Now we’ll have to buy a filter.

Little Willie, mean as hell,
Threw his sister in the well.
Said his mother when drawing water,
“Sure is hard to raise a daughter.”

Little Willie hung his sister.
She was dead before we missed her.
“Willie’s always up to tricks.
Ain’t he cute! He’s only six.”

Little Willie’s dead and gone.
His face we’ll see no more.
For what he thought was H2O
Was H2SO4.

Willie saw some dynamite,
Couldn’t understand it quite.
Curiosity never pays;
It rained Willie seven days.

Little Willie, with a curse
Threw the teapot at the nurse.
When it struck her on the nose,
His father cheered, “How straight he throws!”

Father heard his children scream
So he threw them in the stream
Saying, as he drowned the third,
“Children should be seen, not heard!”