diddilydeedotsdreamland .
I found that this playlist was on here, as well, so I shall keep it here for you. I am not going to look specially through my books for there are much to many and I could be here till after Christmas.
Oh yes, just remembered Halloween in a couple of weeks time, have to make a new page of good things to do at Trick or Treats
THE MAN IN THE MOON by Edith E Millard 1832 - 1891 The Man in the Moon is a friend of mine, He comes when the stars begin to shine: I fancy he lights them, one by one, And never rests till his work is done.
Sometimes I do not see him at all, And I think, most likely, he has to call And shout for the stars that would rather try To play hide and seek in the big blue skies.
The other night, to my great surprise, The Man in the Moon had tears in his eyes; He looked so sad and his mouth drooped down, And he gave me the most tremendous frown!
"Poor Man in the Moon, I am sorry!" I said, "Have you lost some stars?" but he shook his head; He could not tell me what was amiss, So I waved my hand and threw him a kiss.
For more than a week there was rain or snow, And the wind was very angry- I heard it blow; But the Man in the Moon I could not see, The dark clouds hid him away from me.
Last night he peeped through the window pane, I declare I hardly knew him again! I tried to sketch him for Nurse to see, A jollier face there never could be. His eyes were smiling at me like this, And all because I threw him a kiss!
written by the lovely Edith Millard more than a 100 years ago
I have just found that Pull up Alley has vanished, sorry my loves but I will turn it into another fine page don't worry. Here is a lovely playlist for you to sing along with till I get it finished again.
RHINO, EVERYBODY KNOWS , GOT .... WHAT HAS HE GOT? CAN ANYBODY TELL ME?
Diddilydeedotsdreamland
THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG
An old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a crooked sixpence. "What," she said, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I know I shall go to the market and buy a little pig." As she was coming home she came to a stile. The piggy would not go over the stile. She went a little farther, and she met a dog, so she said to the dog:
"Dog, dog, bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!" But the dog would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a stick. So she said.
"Stick, stick, beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over stile, And I shan't get home tonight!" But the stick would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a fire. So she said.
"Fire, fire, burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the fire would not.
She went a little farther, and she met some water. So she said:
"Water, water, quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over stile, And I shan't get home tonight!" But water would not.
She went a little farther, and she met an ox. So she said:
"Ox, ox, drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the ox would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a butcher. So she said:
"Butcher, butcher, kill ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the butcher would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a rope. So she said:
Rope, rope" hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox. Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the rope would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a rat. So she said:
Rat, rat gnaw rope;
Rope,won't hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox.
Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the rat would not.
She went a little farther, and she met a cat. So she said:
Cat, cat, kill rat Rat, won't gnaw rope;
Rope,won't hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox.
Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the cat said to her, "If you will go to yonder cow, and fetch me a saucer of milk, I will kill the rat."
So away went the old woman to the cow and she said:
Cow, cow, give me a saucer of milk; Cat won't kill rat;
Rat, won't gnaw rope;
Rope,won't hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox.
Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dot; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight!"
But the cow said to her,
"If you will go to yonder haymakers, and fetch me a wisp of hay, I'll give you the milk."
So away went the old woman to the haymakers, and said:
"Haymaker, give me a wisp of hay; Cow won't give milk;
Cat won't kill rat; Rat won't gnaw rope; Rope won't hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't drench fire; Fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Piggy won't get over the stile, And I shan't get home tonight! But the haymaker said to her, "If you will go to yonder stream, and fetch us a bucket of water, we'll give you the hay."
So away the old woman went but when she got to the stream she found the bucket was full of holes. So
she covered the bottom of the bucket with pebbles and then filled the
bucket with water, and she went back with it to the haymakers, and they
gave her a wisp of hay. As soon as the cow had eaten the hay, she gave the old woman the milk; and away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.
As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk:
The cat began to kill the rat; The rat began to gnaw the rope; The rope began to hang the butcher; The butcher began to kill the ox; The ox began to drink the water; The water began to quench the fire; The fire began to burn the stick; The stick began to beat the dog; The dog began to bite the pig; The little pig in a fright jumped over the stile; "So the old lady did get home that night!"
"Phew
and if that wasn't one of the longest rymes I have ever wrote out, or
read... I will eat my hat. I am going to have to make a cup of tea now
to recouperate."
The King and the
Blind
Girl. By a fountain
in a garden there's a throne without a king and
although roses scent the air there are no birds to
sing for all the birds have flown away to
search for hidden treasure.
A blind girl
wanders on the lawn, barefoot for her pleasure;
she feels the
daisies with her toes, the buttercups and
marigolds, she hears the crystal fountains sing
- ancient hymns and
madrigals.
But silver
tears softly fall from her curtained eyes
and 'neath
her crown of golden curls her lips release soft
sighs. "The birds, the birds,"
she speaks
aloud, "the birds
have stolen the King - the flowers mute, the
roses deaf, the fountain only,
sings..."
Against the empty throne she
leans, pensive, full of woe til o'er her wilting
head, unseen, there arcs a pale rainbow
debouching strands of entwined colour that fall
before her feet, streaming
down the rainbow's length, scores of birds that
chirp and tweet, their
feathers all of tinted hues their beaks all full of
glitter and from their throats spring
forth true songs full of fairie
glamour! In a
cloud of coloured wings, crimson, gold and silver,
emerald and tourmaline and frosted mint of
aquamarine they lift the gold-haired maid aloft
and fly towards the river.
There, upon a
swan-winged boat the king lays strangely
sleeping and on the mossy, bullrushed banks
small animals are weeping. The blind girl
touched his care-lined face, she touched his
bearded lips, she lay her body next to his and
gently kissed his fingertips.
Then seven
rainbow-coloured swans swam before
the King's death-boat and bore it through the
evening skies - but to what cosmic bourne they
swam, none can claim to be that
wise!
Perhaps the birds might have a clue
but they have also vanished. Where poetry and
magic meet bare truth must sometimes
languish.
By a fountain in a garden there's
a throne without a king and although roses scent
the air there are no birds to sing for all the
birds have flown away to search for hidden
treasure. Of Mystery there is no end, it has no
root or measure.
THE BABES
IN THE WOOD
The
BABES IN THE WOOD.
Now ponder well, you parents deare, These wordes which I shall write; A doleful story you shall heare, In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account In Norfolke dwelt of late. Who did in honour far surmount Most men of his estate.
Sore sicke he was, and like to dye, No helpe his life could save; His wife by him as sicke did lye, And both possest one grave.
No love between these two was lost, Each was to other kinde; In love they liv’d, in love they dyed, And left two babes behinde:
The one a fine and pretty boy, Not passing three yeares olde;
The other a girl more young than he And fram’d in beautye’s molde.
The father left his little son, As plainlye doth appeare, When he to perfect age should come Three hundred poundes a yeare.
And to his little daughter Jane Five hundred poundes in gold, To be paid downe on marriage-day, Which might not be controll’d:
But if the children chanced to dye, Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possesse their wealth; For so the wille did run.
“Now, brother,” said the dying man, “Look to my children deare; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friendes else have they here:
“To God and you I do commend My children deare this daye; But little while be sure we have Within this world to staye.
“You must be father and mother both, And uncle all in one; God knowes what will become of them, When I am dead and gone.”
With that bespake their mother deare: “O brother kinde,” quoth shee, You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or miserie:
“And if you keep them carefully, Then God will you reward; But if you otherwise should deal, God will your deedes regard.”
With lippes as cold as any stone. They kist the children small: ‘God bless you both, my children deare;’ With that the teares did fall.
These speeches then their brother spake
To this sicke couple there: “The keeping of your little ones, Sweet sister, do not feare:
“God never prosper me nor mine, Nor aught else that I have, If I do wrong your children deare, When you are layd in grave.”
The parents being dead and gone, The children home he takes, And bringes them straite unto his house, Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes A twelvemonth and a daye, But, for their wealth, he did devise To make them both awaye.
He bargain’d with two ruffians strong, Which were of furious mood, That they should take the children young, And slaye them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale, He would the children send To be brought up in faire London, With one that was his friend.
Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide, Rejoycing with a merry minde, They should on cock-horse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly As they rode on the waye, To those that should their butchers be, And work their lives’ decaye:
So that the pretty speeche they had, Made murderers’ heart relent: And they that undertooke the deed, Full sore did now repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart, Did vow to do his charge, Because the wretch, that hired him, Had paid him very large.
The other would not agree thereto, So here they fell to strife; With one another they did fight, About the children’s life:
And he that was of mildest mood, Did slaye the other there, Within an unfrequented wood, Where babes did quake for feare!
He took the children by the hand, While teares stood in their eye, And bade them come and go with him,
And look they did not crye:
And two long miles he ledd them on, While they for food complaine: “Stay here,” quoth he, “I’ll bring ye bread, When I come back againe.”
These prettye babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and downe;
But never more they saw the man Approaching from the town.
Their prettye lippes with blackberries Were all besmear’d and dyed; And when they sawe the darksome night, They sat them downe and cryed.
Thus wandered these two prettye babes,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another’s armes they dyed,
As babes wanting relief.
No
burial these prettye babes
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-redbreast painfully Did cover them with leaves.
Not quite the happy ending that is written in the fairy tales, but this story has been told in many languages and some of the write ups say that it was based on a true story. Poor little babes, I think that the bad Uncle was punished for his wicked ways.
POLLY'S PULL-UP ALLEY
Stumble It!
But the stick would not.
"Ox, ox, drink water;
Ox won't drink water;
Ox won't drink water;
Cat, cat, kill rat 
Cat won't kill rat;
As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk:
But silver
tears softly fall from her curtained eyes
inbow-coloured swans swam before
the King's death-boat
