Djolan

Soft was the night, the eve how airy,     When through the big, fat dictionary     I wandered on in careless ease,     And read the a's, b's, c's and d's!     But stop! What is this form I see,     Beginning with a hump-backed d?     I pause! I gasp! I falter there!     It is the djolan, I declare!     It is the djolan, wond'rous word!     The Buceros plicatus bird!     Ne'er, ne'er before had I the bliss     To meet a djolly word like this!     'Twas djust before my dinner hour,     Well, let the djuicy djoint go sour!     Djoyful I read. I djust must see     What this strange djolan word may be!     Ah! ha! It is a noun! A noun!     (A ''name word" as we say in town)     "E. Ind. The native name of the     Year bird." These are the words I see.     "A hornbill with a white tail and,"     The big book trembles in my hand,     "plicated membrane at the base,"     Ah, well-a-day! If that's the case!     "base of the beak, inhabiting,"     Oh! dictionary, wond'rous thing!     "the Sunda Islands ----" Where would we     Without our dictionary be?     "Malacca, e-t-c." That's all!     I let the dictionary fall.     I am replete. All is explained.     Knowledge (it's power) is what I've gained!     Soft was the night, the eve how airy,     I read no more the dictionary,     But Oh! and Oh! my heart was stirred     To learn the djolan was a bird!