The House at Pooh Corner - A. A. Milne [2]
“That’s a very good idea, Piglet,” said Pooh. “We’ll practise it now as we go along. But it’s no good going home to practise it, because it’s a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.”
“Are you sure?” asked Piglet anxiously.
“Well, you’ll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom—”
“Tiddely what?” said Piglet.
“Pom,” said Pooh. “I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more—”
“Didn’t you say snows?”
“Yes, but that was before.”
“Before the tiddely pom?”
“It was a different tiddely pom,” said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. “I’ll sing it to you properly and then you’ll see.”
So he sang it again.
The more it
SNOWS-tiddely-pom,
The more it
GOES-tiddely-pom
The more it
GOES-tiddely-pom
On
Snowing.
And nobody
KNOWS-tiddely-pom,
How cold my
TOES-tiddely-pom
How cold my
TOES-tiddely-pom
Are
Growing.
He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said:
“Pooh,” he said solemnly, “it isn’t the toes so much as the ears.”
By this time they were getting near Eeyore’s Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglet’s ears, and he was getting tired of it, they turned into a little pine wood, and sat down on the gate which led into it. They were out of the snow now, but it was very cold, and to keep themselves warm they sang Pooh’s song right through six times, Piglet doing the tiddely-poms and Pooh doing the rest of it, and both of them thumping on the top of the gate with pieces of stick at the proper places. And in a little while they felt much warmer, and were able to talk again.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Pooh, “and what I’ve been thinking is this. I’ve been thinking about Eeyore.”
“What about Eeyore?”
“Well, poor Eeyore has nowhere to live.”
“Nor he has,” said Piglet.
“You have a house, Piglet, and I have a house, and they are very good houses. And Christopher Robin has a house, and Owl and Kanga and Rabbit have houses, and even Rabbit’s friends and relations have houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what I’ve been thinking is: Let’s build him a house.”
“That,” said Piglet, “is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?”
“We will build it here,” said Pooh, “just by this wood, out of the wind, because this is where I thought of it. And we will call this Pooh Corner. And we will build an Eeyore House with sticks at Pooh Corner for Eeyore.”
“There was a heap of sticks on the other side of the wood,” said Piglet. “I saw them. Lots and lots. All piled up.”
“Thank you, Piglet,” said Pooh. “What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner if Pooh Corner didn’t sound better, which it does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along.”
So they got down off the gate and went around to the other side of the wood to fetch the sticks.
Christopher Robin had spent the morning indoors going to Africa and back, and he had just got off the boat and was wondering what it was like outside, when who should come knocking at the door but Eeyore.
“Hallo, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. “How are you?”
“It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“And freezing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.”
“What’s the matter, Eeyore?”
“Nothing, Christopher Robin. Nothing important. I suppose you haven’t seen a house or whatnot anywhere about?”
“What sort of a house?”
“Just a house.”
“Who lives there?”
“I do. At least I thought I did. But I suppose I don’t. After all, we can’t all have houses.”
“But Eeyore, I didn