Juniper Jones, Juniper Jones!
He made his spare living by playing the bones, which is not much of a living, as you may understand. So he made pocket jingle by playing Kris Kringle, in the cold winter months ending in “Brrrr”.
Now, Juniper Jones had a jam-colored Jalopy that would jump and galumph its way down the road. This stalwart and over-stuffed raisin Jalopy had the merry old moniker “Jazzhands”, because, if you would know, it had a rigorous rhythm and roll as it roll-roll-rolled its way down the road.
One day as Juniper and Jazzhands roamed the road, don’t you know, they saw an old friend name of Oats “Manygoats” McGroats (though why she was called that I can’t say). Old Oats called out in a way most appealing, “Say, fellows, you June and Jazzhands, won’t you help an old Granny?”, for her goats had gotten themselves into a pickle most dire.
Juniper and Jazzhands were of the helping hands kind, so of course they stopped to help old Oats, quick as you could say, “Lickety-split!”. Seems her goats, all one-twenty, had climbed steps, seven-forty, to look down on the townies from the tower all bell-y, and never would come down-O!
Juniper scratched his pate patch, where the normal pate patch hair grows, and said to old Oats, “Do they love to eat something special, treats especial, tummy tasties, do you know?”
Old Oats did a-ponder, her mind did a-wander, while she chewed her jaw patch, where the tooth patch do grow. For trouble, dont’cha know, makes even smart goat person’s brains work ever so slow. After a minute or two, with a smack of her forehead, an answer she brought forth from her noggin, “‘Tis turnips, fresh turnips, they love most of all!”
So Juniper says to Jazzhands, his companion most true, “Neeps, O Jazzhands, it’s turnips we must procure!”
So down into the town went the two fellows the lovely rooties for to find, but when Juniper went into his pocket to find the money in cash to pay the nice grocer, all he came up with was a wish and some wire.
“This will not do, Jazzhands, this will not do!” he cried. “Granny Oats must have her goats and the goats must have their neeps, and so you and I must find a way to get some cash, the veggies to acquire!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his bones. He reached up to his noggin and pulled off his hat. He started to whistle and quicker than that, his bones began to rattle-tat-tat! “A-rattle-tee-tattle-tee-tattle-tee-tat!” He shuffled his feet in a fine sort of dance, behind the weathered and worn cap laid in advance, in hopes of the coins the passers who stopped would drop in his cap, all for the purchase of turnips.
He danced and he pranced, but never a glance could he win from the folks passing by-O! But Juniper Jones, never discouragement could keep him from helping a friend in need, he kept rattling bones and dancing in a way most appealing…til, what did he hear? A clink-a-tee-chink, as a little girl dropped a few coins in his well-worn head-topper. A grin big as Montana came over his face, and he danced and he clacked his fine bones as though winning a race, til more clinks he did hear, that were dear to his ear.
When at last he stopped (for all dancers must stop betimes, and cannot dance forever), he looked in his hat, and what did he spy? Enough copper and silver his turnips for to buy, and butter and jam besides, for to put with his supper’s bread.
Quick as a wink to the market did he go, and turnips a-plenty for goaties one-twenty, plus butter and jam, I am sure. What’s that you ask? What kind of jam? Why, your favorite, of course!
His provisions procured, nothing left to do but roll-roll-roll with Jazzhands back to old Granny McGroats, a-wringing her hands at the sight of her goats, a-wagging their goaty chin whiskers and a-laughing at the townies so far below.
“How’ll we fetch ’em, Oats?” asked Jones, for wrangling goats and playing the bones were ever so, ever so different, don’tcha know?
“We’ll cut a few, and take them up those stairs seven-forty. Once those goats get a sniff, a nosy-nose whiff, they’ll follow wherever we lead ’em-O!” She smiled a good smile, for granny did know her nosy-nose goats, once she had a good thinking minute, don’tcha know?
And that’s what they did! Jazzhands trundled all the provender, Juniper and granny wrangled the goats with their dearly loved turnips. And the only one who wasn’t happy, don’tcha know, was the bellman’s boy, who granny paid to clean up after all those goaty hours up in that high old bell tower.
Jazzhands, Juniper, and Granny McGroats (after penning her goats most secure), went back to her cottage all snuggly-O, and had for their supper two loaves of bread. One loaf of bread was spread with butter and jam, and toasted goat’s cheese as fine as you please, don’tcha know, was spread on the other.