Showing posts with label Children's Literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Children's Literature. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

There Was a Crooked Man (Anonymous)

There was a crooked man,
and he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence
against a crooked stile:
He bought a crooked cat,
which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
in a little crooked house.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

The Wraggle-Taggle Gypsies (Anonymous)

The Wraggle-Taggle Gypsies (Folk Song performed by Tears for Beer)



There were three gypsies a come to my door,
And down stairs ran this a-lady, O.
One sang high and another sang low
And the other sang bonny bonny Biscay O

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown,
And put on hose of leather, O
The ragged ragged rags about our door
And she's gone with the wraggle, taggle gypsies O

It was late last night when my lord came home,
Inquiring for his a-lady O
The servants said on every hand
She's gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O

O saddle to me my milk-white steed
And go and fetch me my pony, O
That I may ride and seek my bride,
Who's gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies O

O he rode high, and he rode low
He rode through wood and copses too,
Until he came to a wide open field,
And there he espied his a-lady O

What makes you leave you house and land?
What makes you leave you money, O?
What makes you leave you new-wedded lord,
To follow the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O.

What care I for my house and land?
What care I for my money,O?
What care I for my new-wedded lord,
I'm off with the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O!

"Last night you slept on a goosefeather bed,
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O.
Tonight you'll sleep in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O."

"What care I for a goose-feather bed,
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O.
For tonight I'll sleet in a cold open field,
Along with the wraggle-taggle gypsies, O.


In Song Catcher from the Southern Mountains (New York: AMS Press, 1966) author Dorothy Scarborough says that in the earliest edition of the ballad, the gypsy is called Johnny Faa, a name common among gypsies. When the gypsies were banished from Scotland in 1624, Johnny Faa disobeyed the decree and was hanged.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Classic Poetry: "The Man in the Moon" (James Whitcomb Riley, 1849-1916)


James Whitcomb Riley, 1913

Said the Raggedy Man on a hot afternoon,
---------------What a lot o' mistakes
Some little folks makes on the Man in the Moon!
But people that's been up to see him like Me,
And calls on him frequent and intimutly,
Might drop a few hints that would interest you
---------------If you wanted 'em to--
Some actual facts that might interest you!"

"O the Man in the Moon has a crick in his back;
---------------Ain't you sorry for him?
And a mole on his nose that is purple and black;
And his eyes are so weak that they water and run
If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun,--
So he jes' dreams of stars, as the doctors advise--
---------------But isn't he wise--
To jes' dream of stars, as the doctors advise?"


Apollo 11: "The Eagle Has Landed," Part 1


"And the Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear--
---------------What a singular thing!
I know! but these facts are authentic, my dear,--
There's a boil on his ear; and a corn on his chin,--
He calls it a dimple,--but dimples stick in,--
Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know!
---------------Why certainly so!--
It might be a dimple turned over, you know!"


Apollo 11: "The Eagle Has Landed," Part 2


"And the Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee,
---------------What a pity that is!
And his toes have worked round where his heels ought to be.
So whenever he wants to go North he goes South,
And comes back with the porridge crumbs all round his mouth,
And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan,
---------------What a marvellous man!
What a very remarkably marvellous man!"


Apollo 11: "The Eagle Has Landed," Part 3


"And the Man in the Moon," sighed the Raggedy Man,
---------------Sullonesome, you know!
Up there by himself since creation began!--
That when I call on him and then come away,
He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay,--
Till--well, if it wasn't for Jimmy-cum-Jim,
---------------I'd go pardners with him!
Jes' jump my bob here and be pardners with him!"

--James Whitcomb Riley, 1892

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Classic Poetry: A Riddle (Hannah More, 1745-1833)

Hannah More, After the painting by H.W. Pickersgill, A.R.A.

I'm a strange contraction; I'm new, and I'm old,

I'm often in tatteres, and oft decked with gold.

Though I could never read, yet lettered I'm found;

Though blind, I enlighten; though loose, I am bound,

I'm always in black, and I'm always in white;

I'm grave and I'm gay, I am heavy and light--

In form too, I differ--I'm thick and I'm thin,

I've no flesh and bones, yet I'm covered with skin;

I've more points than the compass, more stops than the flute;

I sing without voice, without speaking confute.

I'm English, I'm German, I'm French, and I'm Dutch;

Some love me too fondly, some slight me too much;

I often die soon, though I sometimes live ages,

And no monarch alive has so many pages.


What am I?

To find out the answer,

highlight the following: A Book!!!!!!!!


Thursday, August 7, 2008

Snowflake Song (Hilda Conkling, 1910-1986)


Hilda Conkling as pictured in Poems by a Little Girl _____________________________________________________________________

Snowflakes come in fleets

Like ships over the sea.

The moon shines down on the crusty snow:

The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish

In a glassy bowl.

Bluebirds are gone now,

But they left their song behind them.

The moon seems to say:

It is time for summer when the birds come back

To pick up their lonesome songs.


Hilda Conkling was a child poet; between the ages of 4-10, she would often recite her poems to her mother, who would then write them down. Eventually, Hilda's mother stopped writing the poems down.

Most of Conkling poems were written when she was a child and have to do with the natural world.



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