Contents of Short€¦ · Web view'Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe."Beware the Jabberwock,
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Poems for Group ReadingThe lion and the unicorn Were fighting for the crownThe lion beat the unicornAll around the town.Some gave them white bread,And some gave them brown; Some gave them plum cake,And sent them out of town.
One, two,Buckle my shoe.
Three four,Knock at the door.
Five, six,Pick up sticks.
Seven, eight,Lay them straight.
Nine, ten,A big, fat hen.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?I’ve been up to London to visit the queen!Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?I frightened a little mouse under her chair.Meow!
Cats Cats sleepAnywhere, Any table,Any chair, Top of piano,Window-ledge, In the middle, On the edge,Open drawer,Empty shoeAnybody’s Lap will do.
Fitted in aCardboard box,In the cupboardWith your frocks – Anywhere!They don’t care!Cats sleepAnywhere.
by Eleanor Farjeon
I think miceAre rather nice. Their tails are long, Their faces small, They haven’t any Chins at all. Their ears are pink, Their teeth are white, They run about The house at night. They nibble things They shouldn’t touch And no-one seems To like them much.But I think miceAre rather nice.
by Rose Fylemanp27 I Like This Poem, p232 Read Me 1
Daddy Fell into the Pond
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.We had nothing to do and nothing to say.We were nearing the end of a dismal day.And there seemed to be nothing beyond, Then Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone’s face grew merry and bright,And Timothy danced for sheer delight.“Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!He’s crawling out of the duckweed!” Click!
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,And doubled up, shaking silently,And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft,And it sounded as if the old drake laughed.Oh there wasn’t a thing that didn’t respond When Daddy fell into the pond!
by Alfred Noyesp20 I Like This Poem, p52 Read Me 1
All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tideIs a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,And the flung spray and the brown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the winds like a whetted knifeAll I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
by John Masefieldp103 I Like This Poem, p194 The Works 5
On the Ning Nang Nong
On the Ning Nang NongWhere the cows go Bong!And the monkeys all say Boo!There’s a Nong Nang NingWhere the trees go Ping!And the teapots Jibber Jabber Joo.On the Nong Ning Nang All the mice go Clang!And you just can’t catch ‘em when they do!So it’s Ning Nang Nong!Cows go Bong!Nong Nang Ning! Trees go Ping!Nong Ning Nang! The mice go Clang!What a noisy place to belong,Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to seaIn a beautiful pea-green boat:They took some honey, and plenty of moneyWrapped up in a five pound note.The Owl looked up to the stars above,And sang to a small guitar,‘Oh 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 tarriedBut 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 shillingYour ring?’ said the Piggy, ‘I will.’So they took it away, and were married next dayBy the turkey who lives on the hill.They dined on mince and slices of quinceWhich 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.
by Edward Learp11 I Like This Poem, p393 The Works 2, p65 The Works
There was a Young Lady whose bonnet,Came untied when the birds sat upon it;
But she said, “I don't care!All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet!”
by Edward Lear
p13 The Book of Nonsense and Nonsense SongsWindy nightsWhenever the moon and stars are set,Whenever the wind is high,All night long in the dark and wet
A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out,Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,And ships are tossed at sea,By on the highway, low and loud,By at the gallop goes he.By at the gallop he goes, and thenBy he comes back at the gallop again.
by Robert Louis Stevenson 1880sp13 I Like This Poem, p89 The Works 7
The Tyger!
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? And what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
by William Blake 1794p369 The WorksWeek 1 Monday Comprehension 1
The Shark
A treacherous monster is the Shark,He never makes the least remark.
I’m a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog and lone,I’m a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own!I’m a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep;I love to sit and bay the moon and keep fat souls from sleep.
I’ll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet,A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat.Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate,But shut door and sharp stone and cuff and kick and hate.
Not for me the other dogs, running by my side,Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide.O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best,Wide wind and wild stars and the hunger of the quest.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?I’ve been up to London to visit the queen!Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?I frightened a little mouse under her chair.Meow!
Traditional
The Shark (part of)
A treacherous monster is the Shark,He never makes the least remark.
And when he sees you on the sand,He doesn’t seem to want to land.
He watches you take off your clothes,And not the least excitement shows.
by Lord Alfred Douglas
Ducks’ Ditty (part of)
All along the backwater,Through the rushes tall,Ducks are a-dabbling,Up tails all!
by Kenneth Grahame
The Tyger (part of)
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door;Some one came knocking, I’m sure – sure – sure;I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right,But nought there was a-stirring In the still dark night;Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping in the wall,Only from the forest The screech-owl’s call,Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall,So I know not who came knocking, At all, at all, at all.
by Walter de la Mare
p159 The Nations’ Favourite Children’s Poems
There was an Old Man
There was an Old Man with a beard,Who said, “It is just as I feared! –
They shut the road through the woodsSeventy years ago.Weather and rain have undone it again,And now you would never knowThere was once a road through the woodsBefore they planted the trees.It is underneath the coppice and heath,And the thin anemones.Only the keeper seesThat, where the ring-dove broods,And the badgers roll at ease,There was once a road through the woods.Yet, if you enter the woodsOf a summer evening late,When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed poolsWhere 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 throughThe misty solitudes,As though they perfectly knewThe old lost road through the woods . . .But there is no road through the woods!
Ladles and Jellyspoons,I come before youTo stand behind youAnd tell you somethingI know nothing about.Next ThursdayWhich is Good FridayThere’ll be a Mothers’ MeetingFor Fathers only.Wear your best clothes if you haven’t anyAnd if you can comePlease stay at home.Admission freePay at the doorTake a seat and sit on the floor.It makes no difference where you sitThe man in the gallery is sure to spit.
Anon
p92 Read Me and Laugh
Lettuce Marry
Do you carrot all for me?My heart beets for you,With your turnip noseAnd your radish face.You are a peach.If we cantaloupeLettuce marry;Weed make a swell pear.
There is one word, my favourite,The very, very best.It isn't no or maybe…It's Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, YES!!
“Yes you may” and “Yes of course” and “Yes please help yourself”.And when I want a piece of cake,“Why yes it's on the shelf.Some candy? “Yes”.A cookie? “Yes”.A movie? “Yes we'll go”.In school sometimes I win awards,Yes, yes, yes, WOO HOOW!!I love that word (that word yes)But only for good reasons,Like cuddling a teddy bear,Or having mummy's care,All round the changing seasons.I just can't help it,It's really only the best,So you can come and join me,It'll be our favourite word…..YES!
Samira ElbouryYear 5
From http://poetry.clusterup.com/poems/my-favourite-word-122
Week 2 Tuesday Comprehension 6/Spoken Language 2/Transcription 4
Not for me woolly dollsor football cardspop star postersmodel cars –No, I’m into collecting adjectives . . . Big, fat, juicy, yummy, scrummy, rich and famous lean and keen kind of words.
I store them up for special occasions in – massive, marvellous, mysterious, magnificent adjectival boxes with secret seals and silver keys.
But, at the first stroke of the new millenniummy brother’s bedside collection of !!!! marksexploded with excitementtaking with themthe roof of our houseandmy superb adjective collection.
Request
If you should ever find an adjective it is probably mine,You know the sort of word I mean lonely (cloud) misty (lace) sprightly (dance) pretty (place)So if you ever see oneI’m sure it will be mineunless it isn’t spelt right - or doesn’t seem to rhyme.
by Peter Dixon
p465 The Works 4
Week 2 Tuesday Comprehension 6/Spoken Language 2/Transcription 4
Poems about the seaHow Deep is the OceanImagine a mountain upside down,Picture it under the waves,Now hollow it out and imagine the climb,As you dive in its lofty caves.
by Celia Warren
The Nature of the OceanThe sea holds all the answers,It understands the moon,It smooths and cools the pebble,It feeds the gentle dune.The salty sea is healing,Too wise and deep to chart,The sea will tide us overAs we mend a broken heart,For, with lyric and with music,The sea is Living Art.
by Celia Warren
Why Are My Tears so Salty? Why are my tears so salty? You must have swallowed the sea.
Why are my legs so heavy? To stop you floating free.
Why do I feel as empty as a shell that’s prised apart?
Because, when you left the sandy shore, you left a bit of your heart.
The horses of the seaRear a foaming crest,But the horses of the landServe us the best.The horses of the landMunch corn and clover,While the foaming sea-horsesToss and turn over.
by Christina Rossetti
p119 The Works 7
from The Mermaid
Who would beA mermaid fair,Singing alone,Combing her hairUnder the sea,In a golden curlWith a comb of pearl,on a throne?
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
p123 The Works 7
from The Merman
Who would beA merman bold,Sitting aloneSinging aloneUnder the sea,With a crown of gold,On a throne.