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1 Years 3 and 4 Poetry Festival List Contents Title Page Number The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose by Brian Patten 3 Wellingtons by Gareth Owen 4 The Red Herring by George Macbeth 5 Mrs Goodwin’s Part-time Job by Marian Swinger 6 Three Girls by Michael Rosen 7 Transylvania Dreaming (cert PG) by Colin McNaughton 8 Disobedience by A A Milne 9 The Chickens by Anon 11 History by John Kitching 12 Roman Invasions by Celia Warren 13 Fat Cat by Roger Stevens 14 The Way Through The Woods by Rudyard Kipling 15 The Train by Clive Sansom 16 Voice from the Pharaoh’s Tomb by Patricia Leighton 17 Have You Met A Wolf? by James Carter 19 Walking To School by Stanley Cook 20 The Crocodile’s Brushing His Teeth by Colin McNaughton 21 A Liking For The Viking by Celia Warren 22 Little Raindrops by Jane Euphemia Browne 23 The Moon by Robert Louis Stevenson 24 Geography Lesson by Brian Patten 25 My Pet Mouse by David Whitehead 26 Performing Monkey by Joshua Seigal 27 Numberless! By Ian Souter 28 Big Red Boots by Tony Mitton 29 Behind the Staffroom Door by Brian Moses 30 The Day’s Eye by Pie Corbett 31 Chocolate in the House by Andy Seed 32 It’s a Wonderful World, but They Made a Few Mistakes by Judith Viorst 33 Snow by Jane Clarke 34 Extract from the Book of Ecclesiastes from King James Bible 35 Ladybird by Brian D‘Arcy 36 The Most Important Rap by Roger Stevens 37 Listen by Clare Bevan 39 An Alphabet for the Planet by Riad Nourallah 40 Friends by Gareth Owen 42 Remember by Christina Rossetti 44 Mathematically Telepathically Magical by Paul Cookson 45 Eddie in Bed by Michael Rosen 46 Children’s Prayer by John Foster 48 The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson 49

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Page 1: Years 3 and 4 Poetry Festival Listfluencycontent-schoolwebsite.netdna-ssl.com/FileCluster/... · 2017-01-10 · 1 Years 3 and 4 Poetry Festival List Contents Title Page Number The

1

Years 3 and 4 Poetry Festival List

Contents

Title Page Number

The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose by Brian Patten 3

Wellingtons by Gareth Owen 4

The Red Herring by George Macbeth 5

Mrs Goodwin’s Part-time Job by Marian Swinger 6

Three Girls by Michael Rosen 7

Transylvania Dreaming (cert PG) by Colin McNaughton 8

Disobedience by A A Milne 9

The Chickens by Anon 11

History by John Kitching 12

Roman Invasions by Celia Warren 13

Fat Cat by Roger Stevens 14

The Way Through The Woods by Rudyard Kipling 15

The Train by Clive Sansom 16

Voice from the Pharaoh’s Tomb by Patricia Leighton 17

Have You Met A Wolf? by James Carter 19

Walking To School by Stanley Cook 20

The Crocodile’s Brushing His Teeth by Colin McNaughton 21

A Liking For The Viking by Celia Warren 22

Little Raindrops by Jane Euphemia Browne 23

The Moon by Robert Louis Stevenson 24

Geography Lesson by Brian Patten 25

My Pet Mouse by David Whitehead 26

Performing Monkey by Joshua Seigal 27

Numberless! By Ian Souter 28

Big Red Boots by Tony Mitton 29

Behind the Staffroom Door by Brian Moses 30

The Day’s Eye by Pie Corbett 31

Chocolate in the House by Andy Seed 32

It’s a Wonderful World, but They Made a Few Mistakes by Judith Viorst 33

Snow by Jane Clarke 34

Extract from the Book of Ecclesiastes from King James Bible 35

Ladybird by Brian D‘Arcy 36

The Most Important Rap by Roger Stevens 37

Listen by Clare Bevan 39

An Alphabet for the Planet by Riad Nourallah 40

Friends by Gareth Owen 42

Remember by Christina Rossetti 44

Mathematically Telepathically Magical by Paul Cookson 45

Eddie in Bed by Michael Rosen 46

Children’s Prayer by John Foster 48

The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson 49

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Now We Are Six by A A Milne 50

The Canary by Elizabeth Turner 51

The Rainbow by Christina Rossetti 52

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star by Jane Taylor 53

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket byJohn Keats 54

The Supply Teacher by Allan Ahlberg 55

Mind Your Manner by Bruce Lansky 56

All dogs once held a meeting by Anon 57

Picking teams by Allan Ahlberg 58

A Song of Toad by Kenneth Grahame 59

Purple Shoes by Irene Rawnsley 60

January Brings the Snow by Sara Coleridge 62

Scissors by Allan Ahlberg 63

Brother by Mary Ann Hoberman 64

Elephantasia by David Whitehead 65

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The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose by Brian Patten

When I got my finger stuck up my nose

I went to a doctor, who said,

‗Nothing like this has happened before,

We will have to chop off you head.‘

‗It‘s only my finger stuck up my nose,

It‘s only my finger!‘ I said.

‗I can see what it is,‘ the doctor replied,

‗But we‘ll still have to chop off your head.‘

He went to the cabinet. He took out an axe.

I watched with considerable dread.

‗But it‘s only my finger stuck up my nose.

It‘s only a finger!‘ I said.

‗Perhaps we can yank it out with a hook

Tied to some surgical thread.

Maybe we can try that,‘ he replied,

‗Rather that chop off your head.‘

‗I‘m never going to pick it again.

I‘ve now learned my lesson,‘ I said.

‗I won‘t stick my finger up my nose –

I‘ll stick it in my ear instead.‘

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Wellingtons by Gareth Owen

I love the wild wet winter days

Of rain and slushy sleet

For it‘s then I fetch my Welligons

I mean my rubber Gellibongs

Oh dear I mean my Webbingtons

And pull them on my feet.

My sister Jane hates rainy days

The cold makes Mary cry

But me I‘ve got my Wellinbots

Oh dear I mean my Bellingwots

No no I mean my Welltingots

To keep me warm and dry.

But isn‘t it a nuisance

Isn‘t it a shame

That though I love you Wellibongs

I just can‘t say your name.

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The Red Herring by George Macbeth

There was once a high wall, a bare wall. And

against this wall, there was a ladder,

a long ladder. And on the ground,

under the ladder, was a red

herring, a dry red herring.

And then a man came along. And in his hands

(they were dirty hands) this man had

a heavy hammer, a long nail,

(it was also a sharp nail) and

a ball of string. A thick ball of string.

All right. So the man climbed up

the ladder (right up to the top)

and knocked in the sharp nail:

spluk! Just like that.

Right on the top of the wall. The bare wall.

Then he dropped the hammer. It dropped

right down to the ground. And on to the nail

he tied a piece of string, a long

piece of string, and on to the string

he tied the red herring. The dry red herring.

And let it drop. And then he climbed

down the ladder (right down

to the bottom), picked up the hammer

and also the ladder (which was pretty heavy)

and went off. A long way off.

And since then, that red herring, the dry

red herring on the end of the string, which is

quite a long piece, has been

very, very slowly swinging and

swinging to a stop. A full stop.

I expect you wonder why I made

up this story, such a simple story. Well

I did it just to annoy people.

Serious people. And perhaps also

to amuse children. Small children.

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Mrs Goodwin’s Part-time Job by Marian Swinger

It was just a part-time job

but the money wasn‘t bad

and it relieved a housewife‘s boredom

and stopped her going mad.

Of course it was top secret

and the family mustn‘t know.

She checked her space-time monitor.

It must be time to go.

‗Beam me up,‘ she bellowed,

‗the kids have gone to school,

and my husband‘s gone to work,

so beam me up, you fools

for the Zoorgs mass on the borders

and the Voorgs wait to attack

and I‘ve got to save the planet

before the kids get back.‘

A voice said, ‗OK Captain.

It shouldn‘t take a sec.‘

And in a trice, foot tapping,

she was standing on the deck

of a universe class starship,

twenty kilometres wide.

‗Full speed ahead, disintegrators

set to fire,‘ she cried.

The Voorgs fleet ran in terror,

the Zoorgs thought twice and fled.

‗And now let‘s save that planet

and the job‘s all done,‘ she said.

The beamed her down at home time

as her four kids clattered in.

She landed in the kitchen

in something of a spin

and started to peel carrots

with her space corps issue knife.

‗Poor Mum,‘ her children cackled,

‗what a boring life.‘

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Three Girls by Michael Rosen

There were three girls and they were going for

a walk along the beach till they came to a cave.

One of the girls says, ―I‘m going in.‖

So she goes in.

When she gets in, she sees a pile of gold

sitting on the rocks, so she thinks, ―Yipee,

gold, all for me!‖ and she steps forward to

pick it up and a great big voice booms out,

―I‘m the ghost of Captain Cox.

All the gold stays on the rocks.‖

So the girl runs out of the cave.

The second girl goes in and she sees the gold

and she thinks, ―Yippee, gold, all for me!‖

and she steps forward to pick it up and the

great big voice booms out,

―I‘m the ghost of Captain Cox.

All that gold stays on the rocks.‖

So the girl runs out of the cave.

Then the third girl goes in and she sees

the gold and she thinks, ―Yippee, gold,

all for me!‖ and she steps forward to pick

it up and the great big voice goes,

―I‘m the ghost of Captain Cox.

All that gold stays on the rocks.‖

And the girl says,

―I don‘t care. I‘m the ghost of Davy Crocket

and all that gold goes in my pocket!‖

and she runs out of the cave with the gold.

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Transylvania Dreaming (cert PG) by Colin McNaughton

In the middle of the night

When you‘re safe in bed

And the doors are locked

And the cats are fed

And it‘s much too bright

And sleep won‘t come

And there‘s something wrong

And you want your mum

And you hear a noise

And you see a shape

And it looks like a bat

Or a man in a cape

And you dare not breathe

And your heart skips a beat

And you‘re cold as ice

From your head to your feet

And you say a prayer

And you swear to be good

And you‘d run for your life

If you only could

And your eyes are wide

And stuck on stalks

As the thing in black

Towards you walks

And the room goes dark

And you faint clean away

And you don‘t wake up

Till the very next day…

And you open your eyes

And the sun is out

And you jump out of bed

And you sing and shout:

―It was only a dream!‖

And you dance round the room

And your heart is as light

As a helium balloon

And your mum rushes in

And says: ―Hold on a sec…

What are those two little

Holes in your neck?‖

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Disobedience by A A Milne

James James

Morrison Morrison

Weatherby George Dupree

Took great

Care of his Mother,

Though he was only three.

James James

Said to his Mother,

―Mother,‖ he said, said he;

―You must never go down to the end of the town,

if you don‘t go down with me.‖

James James

Morrison‘s Mother

Put on a golden gown,

James James

Morrison‘s Mother

Drove to the end of the town.

James James

Morrison‘s Mother

Said to herself, said she:

―I can get right down to the end of the town and be

back in time for tea.‖

King John

Put up a notice,

―LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!

JAMES JAMES

MORRISON‘S MOTHER

SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID.

LAST SEEN

WANDERING VAGUELY:

QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD,

SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN TO THE END OF THE

TOWN – FORTY SHILLINGS REWARD!‖

James James

Morrison Morrison

(Commonly known as Jim)

Told his

Other relations

Not to go blaming him.

James James

Said to his Mother,

―Mother,‖ he said, said he:

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―You must never go down to the end of the town

without consulting me.‖

James James

Morrison‘s Mother

Hasn‘t been heard of since.

King John

Said he was sorry,

So did the Queen and Prince.

King John

(Somebody told me)

Said to a man he knew:

―If people go down to the end of the town, well,

what can anyone do?‖

(Now then, very softly)

J. J.

M. M.

W. G. Du P.

Took great

Care of his M*****

Though he was only 3.

J. J.

Said to his M*****

―M*****,‖ he said, said he:

―You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-

if-you-don‘t-go-down-with-ME!‖

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The Chickens by Anon

Said the first little chicken

With a funny little squirm,

―I wish I could find

A fat little worm‖.

Said the next little chicken

With an odd little shrug.

―I wish I could find

A fat little slug‖.

Said the third little chicken,

With a sharp little squeal,

―I wish I could find

Some nice yellow meal‖.

Said the fourth little chicken,

With a small sigh of grief,

―I wish I could find

A little green leaf‖.

Said the fifth little chicken,

With a faint little moan,

―I wish I could find

A wee gravel stone‖.

―Now see here‖, said the mother,

From the green garden patch,

―If you want any breakfast

Just come here and scratch‖.

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History by John Kitching

History

Is more than dusty, rusty pages

About crooked princes, queens and kings,

Or victims chained in cold and cruel prison cages.

History

Is more than the mystery

Of wars, other mighty causes

And painful pauses

For great black plagues and fires.

History

Is also your yesterday and mine.

It is our own comic and curious.

It is what made us small folk

Fearful, fierce and furious.

History

Is the blended thread

That binds the living to the dead.

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Roman Invasions by Celia Warren

BC 55

Julius Caesar,

Roman geezer,

Came to Britain,

Wasn‘t smitten,

Back to Gaul

After all.

AD 43

Emperor Claudius,

More maraudius,

Had his reasons,

Sent more legions.

They were stronger,

Stayed much longer,

Long enough

For roads and stuff,

Built some baths,

Had some laughs,

England greener

Greater, Cleaner!

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Fat Cat by Roger Stevens

Our cat, Scampi,

Is a greedy cat,

And he gets fatter every day.

On Monday he squeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Tuesday he he squeeeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Wednesday he squeeeeeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Thursday he squeeeeeeeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Friday he squeeeeeeeeeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Saturday he squeeeeeeeeeeeezes

Through the cat flap.

On Sunday he squeeeeee

He squeeeeee

He squeeeeeeeee

On Sunday he stays outside!

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The Way Through The Woods by Rudyard Kipling

They shut the road through the woods

Seventy years ago.

Weather and rain have undone it again,

And now you would never know

There was once a road through the woods

Before they planted trees.

It is underneath the coppice and heath,

And the thin anemones.

Only the keeper sees

That, where the ring-dove broods,

And the badgers roll at ease,

There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods

Of a summer evening late,

When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools

Where the otter whistles his mate

(They fear not men in the woods,

Because they see so few)

You will hear the beat of a horse‘s feet,

And the swish of a skirt in the dew,

Steadily cantering through

The misty solitudes,

As though they perfectly knew

The old lost road through the woods…

But there is no road through the woods.

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The Train by Clive Sansom

The train goes running along the line

Jicketty-can, jicketty-can.

I wish it were mine, I wish it were mine.

Jicketty-can, jicketty-can.

The engine driver stands in front,

He makes it run, he makes it shunt;

Out of the town,

Out of the town,

Over the hill,

Over the down,

Under the bridge,

Across the lea,

Over the ridge

And down by the sea,

With a Jicketty-can, jicketty-can,

Jicketty-jicketty-jicketty-can.

Jicketty-can, jicketty-can.

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Voice from the Pharaoh’s Tomb by Patricia Leighton

Chill winds across the desert probe

The night-dark entrance to a tomb

And metres deep within stone walls,

Beyond the ears of gods and men,

A spirit voice cries out.

‘How many years have I lain here?

I cannot tell, I cannot tell.

Have only known the pain of theft

From my first journey here till now,

Abandoned and bereft.

Even the gods deserted me.

They, too, were thieves; they too, took all.

They took my sun, my life, my joys,

Laughter of children still to come,

Dream upon dream snuffed out.

Within four coffins shut me tight,

Each tomb a treasure trove of jewels:

Cornelian, quartz, cool ivory,

Bright blue of

Lapis lazuli.

Collars of gold to shackle me,

Silks of deceit to clothe my corpse,

Great masks pressed close against my face,

Darkness to dull the memory

Of all that life had been –

The sun’s warm touch upon my skin,

The Nile’s soft breezes on my cheek;

My favourite hunting dog unleashed,

Flurry of birds flushed from the reeds,

The boatman’s echoing cry –

Chattels were all they left me,

Room upon room in crazy piles:

Gold thrones and chariots, walking sticks,

Sceptres and stools, rare amulets,

Sad bunches of dried flowers.

And these, my cats, which long ago

Wrapped sinuous bodies round my feet,

And purred and preened and licked my hand,

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Are brittle skeletons worn thin

Within grey rotting bands.

Even these dusty memories

Men have removed, men have erased.

Cold walls close in on empty space,

My soul can find no place to rest,

my spirit no release’.

Weak curses from dark shadows seep,

They wither on the desert air.

And deep within a barren tomb

A boy – a king – weeps golden tears.

Tutankhamen*.

(*Tutankhamen: say Toot-AN-ka-MOON )

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Have You Met A Wolf? by James Carter

A white wolf

At night wolf

Beneath a moon

So bright a wolf

Did you have a fright wolf?

Have you met a wolf?

A grey wolf

A stray wolf

Half-way through

The day wolf

Did you run away wolf?

Have you met a wolf?

A brown wolf

A proud wolf

Letting out

A growl wolf

Did you hear it howwwl wolf?

Have you met a wolf?

A green wolf

A lean wolf

Looking wild

And mean wolf

Was it just a dream wolf?

Have you ever

Maybe never

Try remember…

Have you met a wolf?

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Walking To School by Stanley Cook

This is the road down which I go

Early to school every day

And these are the houses on the way

Parading in a long straight row.

This is the house of the motoring man

And the car he is mending sits

Without its wheels on piles of bricks

And he‘s taken the engine out of his van.

This is the house with a big wide drive

With a friendly retriever

Who wags his tail to greet you

And comes to the road to watch you arrive.

This is the house you can hardly see

Among so many lofty trees

That rise in the air like fountains of leaves

And who lives there‘s a mystery to me.

This is the house my friend lives in:

If he sees me coming he‘ll wait

Hiding behind his garden gate

And try to frighten me out of my skin.

This is the wooden bungalow

Where a seagull far from the sea

Calls from his perch on top of the chimney

And scolds the people down below.

This is the house with the rocky pool,

A little windmill, a wooden bridge

And a gnome who fishes at the water‘s edge

And here next to it is the gate to school.

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The Crocodile’s Brushing His Teeth by Colin McNaughton

The Crocodile‘s brushing his teeth, I‘m afraid

This certainly means we‘re too late…

The Crocodile‘s brushing his teeth, I‘m afraid

He has definitely put on some weight.

The Crocodile‘s brushing his teeth, I‘m afraid

It really is, oh, such a bore.

The Crocodile‘s brushing his teeth, I‘m afraid

He appears to have eaten class four!

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A Liking For The Viking by Celia Warren

I‘ve always had a liking for a Viking;

His handsome horns, his rough and ready ways;

His rugged russet hair beneath his helmet

In those metal-rattle, battle-happy days.

I‘ve always had a longing for a longboat;

To fly like a dragon through the sea

To peaceful evenings round a real fire,

Alive with legends; rich with poetry.

I‘ve always had a yearning for the burning

Of brave flames irradiating valour;

For the fiery longboat carrying its Chieftain

To his final feast in glorious Valhalla.

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Little Raindrops by Jane Euphemia Browne

Oh, where do you come from,

You little drops of rain,

Pitter patter, pitter patter,

Down the window pane?

They won‘t let me walk,

And they won‘t let me play.

And they won‘t let me go

Out of doors at all today.

They put away my playthings

Because I broke them all,

And then they locked up my bricks,

And took away my ball.

Tell me, little raindrops,

Is that the way you play,

Pitter patter, pitter patter,

All the rainy day?

They say I‘m very naughty,

But I‘ve nothing else to do

But sit here at the window;

I should like to play with you.

The little raindrops cannot speak,

But ―pitter patter pat‖

Means, ―We can play on this side,

Why can‘t you play on that?‖

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The Moon by Robert Louis Stevenson

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

She shines on thieves on the garden wall.

On streets and fields and harbour quays,

And birdies asleep in the forks of trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

The howling dog by the door of the house,

The bat that lies in bed at noon,

All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day

Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

And flowers and children close their eyes

Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

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Geography Lesson by Brian Patten

Our teacher told us one day he would leave

And sail across a warm blue sea

To places he had only known form maps,

And all his life had longed to be.

The house he lived in was narrow and grey

But in his mind‘s eye he could see

Sweet-scented jasmine clinging to walls,

And green leaves burning on an orange tree.

He spoke of the lands he longed to visit,

Where it was never drab or cold.

I couldn‘t understand why he never left,

And shook off the school‘s stranglehold.

Then halfway through his final term

He took ill and never returned.

He never got to that place on the map

Where the green leaves of the orange trees burned.

The maps were redrawn on the classroom wall;

His name forgotten, he faded away.

But a lesson he never knew he taught

Is with me to this day.

I travel to where the green leaves burn,

To where the ocean‘s glass-clear and blue,

To places our teacher taught me to love –

And which he never knew.

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My Pet Mouse by David Whitehead

I have a friendly little mouse,

He is my special pet.

I keep him safely on a lead.

I haven‘t lost him yet.

I never need to feed him,

Not even bits of cheese.

He‘s never chased by any cat

And he does just as I please.

He likes it when I stroke him

For he‘s smooth and grey and fat.

He helps me sometimes with my games,

When he runs around my mat.

I‘ve never ever known a mouse

That could really be much cuter.

He‘s my extra special electric mouse

That works my home computer.

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Performing Monkey by Joshua Seigal

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t live in the zoo

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t go OO! OO! OO!

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t swing in a tree

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t go OO-EE-EEH!

I‘m not a performing monkey

I‘m not a go-rill-a

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t go OO-AH-AH!

I‘m not a performing monkey

I don‘t live in the zoo

But as a special treat

I‘ll say this poem

Just for you!

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Numberless! By Ian Souter

If all the numbers in the world were

Rubbed out,

Removed,

Taken away:

I wouldn‘t know how old I was,

I wouldn‘t know the time of day,

I wouldn‘t know which bus to catch,

I wouldn‘t know the number of goals I had scored,

I wouldn‘t know how many scoops of ice cream I had,

I wouldn‘t know my phone number,

I wouldn‘t know the page on my reading book,

I wouldn‘t know how tall I was,

I wouldn‘t know how much I weighed,

I wouldn‘t know how many sides there are in a hexagon,

I wouldn‘t know how many days in the month,

I wouldn‘t be able to work my calculator.

And I wouldn‘t be able to play hide and seek!

But I would know,

As far as my mum was concerned,

I was still her NUMBER ONE!

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Big Red Boots by Tony Mitton

Big red boots, big red boots.

One of them squeaks and the other one toots.

One of them hops and the other one stamps.

Big red boots take long, wet tramps.

Boots, boots, big red boots.

One of them squeaks and the other one toots.

Big red boots on busy little feet

Start out shiny, clean and neat.

Big red boots, oh, yes, yes, yes,

End up muddy in a terrible mess.

Boots, boots, big red boots.

One of them squeaks and the other one toots.

Big red boots, big red boots,

Squelch through mud and trample roots.

Big red boots say, ―Look! Oh gosh!

What a great puddle there… Yay! SPLOSH!‖

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Behind the Staffroom Door by Brian Moses

Ten tired teachers slumped in the staffroom at playtime,

One collapsed when the coffee ran out, then there were nine.

Nine tired teachers making lists of things they hate,

One remembered playground duty, then there were eight.

Eight tired teachers thinking of holidays in Devon,

One slipped off to pack his case, then there were seven.

Seven tired teachers, weary of children‘s tricks,

One hid in the stock cupboard, then there were six.

Six tired teachers, under the weather, barely alive,

One gave an enormous sneeze, then there were five.

Five tired teachers, gazing at the open door,

One made a quick getaway, then there were four.

Four tired teachers, faces lined with misery,

One locked herself in the ladies, then there were three.

Three tired teachers, wondering what to do,

One started screaming when the bell rang, then there were two.

Two tired teachers, thinking life really ought to be fun,

One was summoned to see the Head, then there was one.

One tired teacher caught napping in the afternoon sun,

Fled quickly from the staffroom, then there were none.

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The Day’s Eye by Pie Corbett

The sun rises,

Surprises the weary night,

Like a sudden joke.

Daylight.

The sun gleams,

Beams kindly heat

Like an oven‘s plate.

Streets sweat.

The sun sneaks,

Peeks through misty cloud,

Like a sly thief,

Alone in the crowd.

The sun sleeps,

Creeps into cool shade,

Like a honey cat.

Shadows fade.

The sun slips,

Dips into night,

Like a closing mouth,

Swallowing light.

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Chocolate in the House by Andy Seed

There‘s chocolate in the house,

I hear it calling me.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

I can‘t stay away.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

It‘s drawing me near.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

To resist is useless.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

I‘ll just go and see what kind it is.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

It‘s a good kind.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

I‘ll just try a bit.

There‘s chocolate in the house,

Mmmmm,

There‘s chocolate in the house,

Smooth and creamy…

There‘s no chocolate in the house.

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It’s a Wonderful World, but They Made a Few Mistakes by Judith Viorst

It‘s a wonderful world, but they made a few mistakes.

Like leaving out unicorns and putting in snakes.

Like no magic carpets, no wishing wells, no genies.

Like good guys getting picked on by the meanies.

Like arithmetic, especially multiplication.

Like expecting a person to stay at home for one whole week

with a sitter while that person‘s mother and father take a

vacation.

Like needing to finish the green beans to get to dessert.

Like everyone caring way too much about dirt.

Like letting there be a cavity in a tooth.

Like calling it a lie when all that this person has done is not

mention part of the truth.

Like raining on soccer games, and liver for supper.

Like bunk beds where the younger person always gets stuck

with the lower and the older person always gets the upper.

Like leaving out mermaids and putting in splinters and bee

stings and wars and tornadoes and stomach aches.

It‘s a wonderful world, but they make a few mistakes.

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Snow by Jane Clarke

White snow,

Bright snow,

Silent in the night snow.

Crystal petal

Snowflakes settle.

Sparkle in the light snow.

Deep snow,

Heaped snow,

Leap about and sweep snow.

Snowmen, snowballs,

Snowdrifts, snowfalls.

Hands and feet aglow snow.

Cold snow,

Old snow,

Melting as you hold snow.

Icy, slushy,

Dirty, mushy…

Time for you to go, snow.

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Extract from the Book of Ecclesiastes from King James Bible

To every thing there is a season,

And a time to every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time of war, and a time of peace.

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Ladybird by Brian D‘Arcy

Ladybird, ladybird,

So tiny and bright,

I wonder, I wonder,

Where you sleep at night.

Ladybird, ladybird,

So easily seen,

I wonder, I wonder,

Why red and not green.

Ladybird, ladybird,

At home in the sky,

I wonder, I wonder,

When you learnt to fly.

Ladybird, ladybird,

When Winter draws near,

I wonder, I wonder,

Why you disappear.

Ladybird, ladybird,

In so many ways, you‘re

a wonder, a wonder,

that brightens my days.

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The Most Important Rap by Roger Stevens

I am an astronaut

I circle the stars

I walk on the moon

I travel to Mars

I‘m brave and tall

There is nothing I fear

And I am the most important person here.

I am a teacher

I taught you it all

I taught you why your

Spaceship doesn‘t fall

If you couldn‘t read or write

Where would you be?

The most important person here is me.

Who are you kidding?

Are you taking the mick?

Who makes you better

When you‘re feeling sick?

I am a doctor

And I‘m always on call

And I am more important than you all.

But I am your mother

Don‘t forget me

If it wasn‘t for your mother

Where would you be?

I washed your nappies

And changed your vest

I‘m the most important

And mummy knows best.

I am a child

And the future I see

And there‘d be no future

If it wasn‘t for me

I hold the safety

Of the planet in my hand

I‘m the most important

And you‘d better understand.

Now just hold on

I‘ve a message for you all

Together we stand

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And divided we fall

So let‘s make a circle

And all remember this

Who‘s the most important?

Everybody is.

Who‘s the most important?

EVERYBODY IS!

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Listen by Clare Bevan

Listen.

Far away, the snort of a camel,

The swish of boots in the endless sand,

The whisper of silk and the clatter of ceremonial swords,

Far away.

Listen.

Not so far, the slam of the castle door,

A cry of rage on the midnight air,

A jangle of spurs and the cold thrust of a soldier‘s command.

Not so far.

Listen.

Closer now, the homely bleat of a ewe among the grasses,

The answering call of her lamb, fresh born,

The rattle of stones on a hillside path,

Closer now.

Listen.

Closer still, the murmur of women in the dark,

The kindly creak of a stable door,

The steady breathing of the sleepy beasts,

Closer still.

Listen.

So close you are almost there,

The singing of the start,

The soundless flurry of wings,

The soft whimper of a child amongst the straw.

So close you are almost there.

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An Alphabet for the Planet by Riad Nourallah

A for air.

The gentle breeze by which we live.

B for bread.

A food to bake, and take – and give.

C for climate.

It can be warm, it can be cold…

D for dolphin.

A smiling friend no net should hold.

E for Earth.

Our ship through space, and home to share.

F for family.

Which also mean people everywhere.

G for green.

Colour of life we‘ll help to spread.

H for healthy.

Happy and strong, no fumes with lead.

I for ivory.

The elephant‘s tusks, his own to keep.

J for jungle.

A rainforest. No axe should creep.

K for kindly.

To everyone, gentle and good.

L for life.

It fills the sea and town and wood.

M for mother.

She may feel hurt, but loves us all.

N for nest.

A tiny home for chicks so small.

O for Ozone.

It shields our Earth from harmful rays.

P for peace.

‗My happy dream,‘ the Planet says.

Q for quiet.

Where no loud noise can get at you.

R for recycled.

Old cans and cards as good as new.

S for Sun.

The nearest star. It gives us light.

T for tree.

A grander plant, a green delight.

U for united.

Working as one to put it right.

V for victory.

Winning over disease and war.

W for water.

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The whole earth drinks when rainclouds pour.

X for Xylophone.

Music from wood – the high notes soar!

Y for yummy.

Those tasty fruits ‗organically grown‘.

Z for zoo.

A cage, a condor – sad, alone.

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Friends by Gareth Owen

When first I went to school

I walked with Sally.

She carried my lunch pack,

Told me about a book she‘s read

With a handsome hero

So I said,

‗You be my best friend‘.

After break I went right off her.

I can‘t say why

And anyway I met Joan

Who‘s pretty with dark curls

And we sat in a corner of the playground

And giggled about the boy who brought the milk.

Joan upset me at lunch,

I can‘t remember what she said actually,

But I was definitely upset

And took up with Hilary

Who‘s frightfully brilliant and everything

And showed me her history

Which I considered very decent.

The trouble with Hilary is

She has to let you know how clever she is

And I said,

‗You‘re not the only one who‘s clever you know,‘

And she went all quiet and funny

And hasn‘t spoken to me since.

Good riddance I say

And anyway Linda is much more my type of girl;

She does my hair in plaits

And says how pretty I look,

She really says what she thinks

And I appreciate that.

Nadine said she was common

When we saw her on the bus that time

Sitting with three boys from another school,

And I had to agree

There was something in what she said.

There‘s a difference between friendliness

And being cheap

And I thought it my duty

To tell her what I thought.

Well she laughed right in my face

And then pretended I wasn‘t there

So I went right of her.

If there‘s one thing I can‘t stand

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It‘s being ignored and laughed at.

Nadine understood what I meant,

Understood right away

And that‘s jolly nice in a friend.

I must tell you one thing about her,

She‘s rather a snob.

I get the feeling

She looks down on me

And she‘ll never come to my house

Though I‘ve asked her thousands of times.

I thought it best to have it out with her

And she went off in a huff

Which rather proved my point

And I considered myself well rid.

At the moment

I walk home on my own

But I‘m keeping my eyes open

And when I see somebody I consider suitable

I‘ll befriend her.

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Remember by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you‘d plann‘d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

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Mathematically Telepathically Magical by Paul Cookson

Think of a number from one to ten,

Any one will do.

Are you ready with your number then…

Multiply it by two.

Once you have the answer

Add another six.

Have you got this total?

Here‘s what you do next…

Halve the total you have got

(and this is the magical mystery)

Subtract the number you first thought of

And your answer must be… three!

It‘s mathematically telepathically magical you see.

It works with any number from one right up to ten.

Carefully follow each of the steps, your answer‘s always three.

Think of another number and try it again and again.

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Eddie in Bed by Michael Rosen

Sometimes I look really tired,

Because you see

When most people are fast asleep

And I‘m fast asleep

I hear,

‗waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa‘.

That‘s the baby, Eddie.

So I get out of bed and go into his room

And he‘s sitting up in bed

And he has these nightmares.

Not nightmares like you have,

Like Dracula biting your head off or something.

He has nightmares about people taking food away from him.

So one night I go in there

And he‘s sitting up in bed

Lifting his arms above his head

And banging them down

Screaming,

‗I want my biscuits I want my biscuits‘.

Now if you can imagine that,

You can also imagine

That at this time he was sleeping

in the same bed as his brother.

Who was six.

And you have to imagine his brother‘s head

Is right next to Eddie‘s hip.

Think about it.

Eddie‘s hands go above his head and

Wham

Down by his side

Right on Joe‘s nut.

‗I want my biscuits I want my biscuits‘.

So Joe lifts his head and he goes,

‗What‘s going on?‘

Wham

‗I want my biscuits.‘

‗What‘s going on?‘

Wham

‗I want my biscuits.‘

‗What‘s going on?‘

Wham

‗I want my biscuits.‘

‗Stop it, Eddie‘ – wham back

‗I want my biscuits.‘

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Wham.

‗OK, fellas,‘ I say,

‗Cut it out‘.

And I lift Eddie up and take him into our bed.

What a stupid thing to do.

You see

Most people sleep with their head

On the pillow

And their feet at the other end of the bed.

When Eddie comes into our bed

He sleeps with his head next to Susanna‘s head

And his feet in my ear.

And you have to imagine those feet

Sticking in my ear.

And the toes.

Those toes are going

Wiggle wiggly wiggly

Down my ear.

All night.

So by the time I get up

In the morning

I‘m very tired

And very cross.

But I can always get my own back on him

In the morning

Cos he hates having his nappy done…

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Children’s Prayer by John Foster

Let the teacher of our class

Set us tests that we all pass.

Let them never ever care

About what uniform we wear

Let them always clearly state

It‘s OK if your homework‘s late.

Let them say it doesn‘t matter

When we want to talk and chatter.

Let our teachers shrug and grin

When we make an awful din.

Let them tell us every day

There are no lessons. Go and play.

Let them tell out mum and dad

We‘re always good and never bad.

Let them write in their report

We are the best class they have ever taught!

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The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside—

Till I look down on the garden green,

Down on the roof so brown—

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

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Now We Are Six by A A Milne

When I was one,

I had just begun.

When I was two,

I was nearly new.

When I was three,

I was hardly me.

When I was four,

I was not much more.

When I was five,

I was just alive.

But now I am six,

I'm as clever as clever.

So I think I'll be six

now and forever.

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The Canary by Elizabeth Turner

Mary had a little bird,

With feathers bright and yellow,

Slender legs-upon my word,

He was a pretty fellow!

Sweetest notes he always sung,

Which much delighted Mary;

Often where his cage was hung,

She sat to hear Canary.

Crumbs of bread and dainty seeds

She carried to him daily,

Seeking for the early weeds,

She decked his palace gaily.

This, my little readers, learn,

And ever practice duly;

Songs and smiles of love return

To friends who love you truly.

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The Rainbow by Christina Rossetti

Boats sail on the rivers,

And ships sail on the seas;

But clouds that sail across the sky

Are prettier than these.

There are bridges on the rivers,

As pretty as you please;

But the bow that bridges heaven,

And overtops the trees,

And builds a road from earth to sky,

Is prettier far than these.

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Twinkle Twinkle Little Star by Jane Taylor

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,

When he nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark

Thanks you for your tiny spark,

How could he see where to go,

If you did not twinkle so?

In the dark blue sky you keep,

Often through my curtains peep

For you never shut your eye,

Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark

Lights the traveller in the dark,

Though I know not what you are,

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

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On the Grasshopper and the Cricket byJohn Keats

The Poetry of earth is never dead:

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,

And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run

From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;

That is the Grasshopper‘s—he takes the lead

In summer luxury,—he has never done

With his delights; for when tired out with fun

He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

The poetry of earth is ceasing never:

On a lone winter evening, when the frost

Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills

The Cricket‘s song, in warmth increasing ever,

And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,

The Grasshopper‘s among some grassy hills.

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The Supply Teacher by Allan Ahlberg

Here's the rule for what to do

If ever your teacher has the flu

Or for some other reason takes to her bed

And a different teacher comes instead

When the visiting teacher hangs up her hat

Writes the date on the board, does this or that

Always remember, you have to say this,

OUR teacher never does that, Miss!

When you want to change places or wander about

Or feel like getting the guinea pig out

Never forget, the message is this,

OUR teacher always lets us, Miss!

Then, when your teacher returns next day

And complains about the paint or clay

Remember these words, you just say this:

That OTHER teacher told us to, Miss!

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Mind Your Manner by Bruce Lansky

Don‘t drum on the table.

Don‘t play with your food.

Don‘t talk while you‘re chewing;

it‘s terribly rude.

Don‘t leave the fridge open.

Don‘t slam the screen door.

Don‘t throw dirty laundry

all over the floor.

Don‘t fight with your brother.

Don‘t pull the cat‘s tail.

Don‘t open your big sister‘s

personal mail.

Don‘t pester your parents.

Don‘t stick out your tongue.

Don‘t do what your parents did

when they were young.

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All dogs once held a meeting by Anon

All dogs once held a meeting, they came from near and far

Some came by train, some walked, and others came by car

But before they got inside the hall and were allowed to take a look

They had to take their rear ends off and hang them on a hook

Then into the hall they went....the mother, son and sire

Hardly were they seated when some "mongrel" hollered FIRE!

So out the door they ran, all in a mixed up bunch...no time to really look

Each one grabbed a rear-end, swiftly and at random, off the hallway hook

They got their rear-ends all mixed up, which made them awful sore

To think they didn't have the one, they'd always had before!

And that's the reason you will see, when you go down the street

Each dog will stop to swap a smell, with every dog they meet

That's the reason why, a dog will leave a nice fat bone

To go and smell a rear-end.....'cause he hopes to find his own!

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Picking teams by Allan Ahlberg

When we pick teams in the playground,

Whatever the game might be,

There‘s always somebody left till last

And usually it‘s me.

I stand there looking hopeful

And tapping myself on the chest,

But the captains pick the others first,

Starting, of course, with the best.

Maybe if teams were sometimes picked

Starting with the worst,

Once in his life a boy / girl like me

Could end up being first!

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A Song of Toad by Kenneth Grahame

The world has held great Heroes,

As history-books have showed;

But never a name to go down to fame

Compared to that of Toad!

The clever men at Oxford

Know all there is to be knowed.

But they none of them know one half as much

As intelligent Mr Toad!

The animals sat in the ark and cried,

Their tears in torrents flowed.

Who was it said, ‗There‘s land ahead‘?

Encouraging Mr Toad!

The Army all saluted

As they marched along the road.

Was it the King? Or Kitchener?

No. It was Mr Toad.

The Queen and her ladies-in-waiting

Sat at the window and sewed.

She cried, ‗Look! Who‘s that handsome man?‘

They answered, ‗Mr Toad.‘

The motor-car went Poop-poop-poop

As it raced along the road.

Who was it steered it into a pond?

Ingenious Mr Toad!

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Purple Shoes by Irene Rawnsley

Mum and me had a row yesterday,

a big, exploding

howdareyouspeaktomelikethatI‘mofftostayatGran‘s

kind of row.

It was about shoes.

I‘d seen a pair of purple ones at Carter‘s,

heels not too high, soft suede, silver buckles;

‗No‘ she said

‗Not suitable for school.

I can‘t afford to buy rubbish.‘

That‘s when we had our row.

I went to bed longing for those shoes.

They made footsteps in my mind,

kicking up dance dust;

I wore them in my dreams across a shiny floor,

under flashing coloured lights.

It was ruining my life not to have them.

This morning they were mines.

Mum relented and gave me the money.

I walked out of the store wearing new purple

shoes.

I kept seeing myself reflected in shop windows

with purple shoes on,

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walking to the bus stop,

walking the whole length of our street

wearing purple shoes.

On Monday I shall go to school in purple shoes.

Mum will say no a thousand furious times

But I don‘t care.

I‘m not going to give in.

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January Brings the Snow by Sara Coleridge

January brings the snow,

Makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain,

Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes sharp and shrill,

Shakes the dancing daffoldil.

April brings the primrose sweet,

Scatters daisies at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs,

Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,

Fills the children‘s hands with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers,

Apricots and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn,

Then the harvest home is borne.

Warm September brings the fruit,

Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

Brown October brings the pheasant,

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast,

Then the leaves go whirling past.

Chill December brings the sleet,

Blazing fire and Christmas treat.

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Scissors by Allan Ahlberg

Nobody leave the room.

Everybody listen to me.

We had ten pairs of scissors

At half-past two,

And now there‘s only three.

Seven pairs of scissors

Disappeared from sight.

Not one of you leaves

Till we find them

We can stop here all night!

Scissors don‘t lose themselves,

Melt away or explode.

Scissors have not got

Legs of their own

To go running off up the road.

We really need those scissors,

That‘s what makes me mad.

If it was seven pairs

Of children we‘d lost,

It wouldn‘t be so bad.

I don‘t want to hear excuses.

Don‘t anyone speak.

Just ransack this room

Till we find them,

Or we‘ll stop here…all week!

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Brother by Mary Ann Hoberman

I had a little brother

And I brought him to my mother

And I said I want another

Little brother for a change.

But she said don‘t be a bother

So I took him to my father

And I said this little bother

Of a brother‘s very strange.

But he said one little brother

Is exactly like another

And every little brother

Misbehaves a bit he said.

So I took the little brother

From my mother and my father

And I put the little bother

Of a brother back to bed.

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Elephantasia by David Whitehead

If an elephant wore big rubber boots –

Would it be a Wellyphant?

Or if one was raspberry red and wobbly –

Could it be a Jellyphant?

If you saw one on a TV show –

Might it be a Telephant?

What if an elephant never had a shower -

Would he be a Smellyphant?

Or if one got so very, very fat –

Might we say – Pot-bellyphant?

Do you think we‘ll ever, ever know?

No, not on your Nelly-phant!