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CHILDREN'S RHYME

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see also:
CHILDREN
LIMERICKS
POETRY

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Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We Daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together; jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.

High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits.a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nighs,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.

--William Allingham (1824—1899)
Irish man of letters and poet.
"Faeries"

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"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot,
And whether pigs have wings"
--Lewis Carroll [Charles Lutwidge Dodgson] (1832—1898)
English writer and logician.


"Father William"
by Lewis Carroll [Charles Lutwidge Dodgson] (1832—1898)
English writer and logician.

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head —
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back somersault in at the door —
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment — one shilling the box —
Allow me to sell you a couple."

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak —
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose —
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"

-

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"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod"
by Eugene Field (1850—1895)
American journalist and writer of children's verse.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe —
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old man laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in a the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew,
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in the beautiful sea —
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish —
Never afeard are we;"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam —
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folks thought twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea —
But I shall name you the fisherman three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head.
And the wooden shoe that sails the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while your mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

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"THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT"
by Edward Lear (1812—1888)
English landscape painter and writer of nonsense verse.


The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat;
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the moon above,
And sang to a small guitar:
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl: "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh, let us be married — too long we have tarried —
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the bong tree grows;
And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose.
With a ring at the end of his nose

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon.
They danced by the light of the moon.

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The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.
--Ogden Nash (1902—1971)
American writer of humorous poetry.
_The Ostrich_


The Pig, if I am not mistaken,
gives us ham and pork and bacon.
Let others think his heart is big,
I think it stupid of the Pig.
--Ogden Nash (1902—1971)
American writer of humorous poetry.

I give you now Professor Twist,
A conscientious scientist.
Trustees exclaimed, "He never bungles!"
And sent him off to distant jungles.
Camped on a tropic riverside,
One day he missed his loving bride.
She had, the guide informed him later,
Been eaten by an alligator.
Professor Twist could not but smile.
"You mean," he said, "a crocodile."
--Ogden Nash (1902—1971)
American writer of humorous poetry.

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General: I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.

I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

--W. S. Gilbert & Sullivan
_Pirates of Penzance _ [1879, New York & 1880, London]

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A child should always say what's true,
And speak when he is spoken to;
And behave mannerly at table,
At least as far as he is able.
--Robert Louis Stevenson (1850—1894)
Scottish essayist, poet, and novelist.
_A Child's Garden of Verses_ [1885],
"Whole Duty of Children"


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