Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie Porgie ran away.
One cannot fully appreciate the wretched fate of Georgie Porgie without first coming to the understanding that our subject is a child.
There are several clues. The diminutive of “George” is used. The interests described are those we would expect a child to enjoy – dessert, firstly, and secondly the company of children. There is a childlike inability to recognize social boundaries, and anxiety leading to Georgie’s running away from a group of boys. Notably, the observer can’t categorize Georgie as one of the boys or one of the girls.
Georgie is further set apart from the other tots by a lack of parental supervision. There seems to be no restriction against Georgie’s consuming multiple desserts, and no mention of dinner first. The narrator has an intimate but fleeting knowledge of Georgie – consistent with the observations a neighbor might make, day by day, while looking out the window.
We are given to understand that the narrator doesn’t know the child’s family. “Porgie” is an odd last name – unique, and rhyming so exactly with the perfectly-typical “Georgie,” it seems to be made up. As a descriptor, it emphasizes pudginess – but the ending “ie” carries a ring of affection, rather than ridicule. Earlier versions of this poem reference the name “Rowley Powley” instead – which conveys a spontaneous-naming-based-on-a-pudgy-appearance even more forcefully (and is less humanizing), but which nevertheless retains the affectionate “y” at the end.
The past-tense of the riddle indicates more than a passing observance. The narrator has watched Georgie for some amount of time, and deems the behavior observed important enough to chronicle.
Indeed, the child does seem fascinating. Most intriguing of all is the ability described in the second line, where Georgie “kissed the girls and made them cry.”
Despite their horror, all the girls get kissed. This is not described as a struggle; the girls’ reactions are not to run or fight. It seems as though Georgie has kissed them all before any of them were able to counter the advance. This in spite of the child’s suggested roundness is bizarre; is Georgie that fast, or that sneaky? Is Georgie able to occupy multiple spaces at once?
Just as strange is the absence of a connecting word between “Georgie Porgie” and “pudding and pie.” It sounds almost as though Georgie is one with those items. What kind of creature is this – this Georgie? Lacking a family and a name, neither boy nor girl, one with the pudding and the pie, and able with his lips to mass-assault groups of children?
We can only logically conclude that Georgie is a blob-monster, spawned from the cloying depths of leftover dessert. A motherless creature, perhaps remembering the feminine hands that fashioned his gestational pudding, Georgie stretches gooey tendrils to the little girls at play. Rather than a mother’s tender love, however, he finds only disgust and horror.
The neighborhood boys, far from repulsed, are brutally fascinated. Georgie flees their noisy, prodding pursuit and disappears, never to be seen again.
Case regretfully closed.