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Updated: May 24, 2025
"'T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe." "It seems rather pretty," commented the wise Alice, "but it's rather hard to understand! Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas only I don't exactly know what they are!"
He just felt when he got out here himself that it would be a jolly thing for her to come too; it would do her good to cut everything all the mimsy tosh she'd been brought up in and hated to get out of it all just to do one splendid bunk. That, he said, was all it amounted to. We talked it over, sitting up in his little bedroom under the roof, the cheapest room in the hotel.
And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again. This was the poem that Alice read. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!
The distant cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she laughed crazily: "'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe!" DeWitt laughed hoarsely. "That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy as I am."
'I can explain all the poems that were ever invented and a good many that haven't been invented just yet. This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse: 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'That's enough to begin with, Humpty Dumpty interrupted: 'there are plenty of hard words there.
Sails of snow glistened here and there on the bosom of the Bay, while motor-boats and what-not darted this way and that impudently among the stately ships of the fleet. In one corner of the room stood a sewing-machine, and on the long table were piles of mimsy stuff out of which feminine creations are constructed.
"A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window-sill, Cocked his shining eye and said 'Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!" In a tiny hollow I found still another, by the same hand: "'T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe." As I went back to the house, bearing my findings, I met my little boy friend.
Meillard was raising his hands; solemnly he addressed the natives: "'Twas brillig and the slithy toves were whooping it up in the Malemute Saloon, and the kid that handled the music box did gyre and gimble in the wabe, and back of the bar in a solo game all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgabe the lady that's known as Lou."
He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. 'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. However, SOMEBODY killed SOMETHING: that's clear, at any rate
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