Childhoods Favorites and Fairy Stories | Page 9

she went to the cupboard, To get her poor dog a bone. When she got there, the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's to buy him some bread, But when she came back the poor dog was dead.
She went to the undertaker's to buy him a coffin, And when she came back the dog was laughing.
She went to the draper's to buy him some linen, And when she came back the good dog was spinning.
She went to the hosier's to buy him some hose, And when she came back he was dressed in his clothes.
The dame made a curtsy, the dog made a bow, The dame said "your servant," the dog said "Bow-wow."
She went to the hatter's to buy him a hat, And when she came back he was feeding the cat.
She went to the tailor's to buy him a coat, And when she came back he was riding the goat.
She went to the barber's to buy him a wig, And when she came back he was dancing a jig.
She went to the butcher's to get him some tripe, And when she came back he was smoking a pipe.
She went to the fish-shop to buy him some fish, And when she came back he was washing the dish.
She went to the tavern for white wine and red, And when she came back the dog stood on his head.
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As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives; Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits. Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were going to St. Ives?
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POLLY
Brown eyes, straight nose; Dirt pies, rumpled clothes.
Torn books, spoilt toys: Arch looks, unlike a boy's;
Little rages, obvious arts; (Three her age is), cakes, tarts;
Falling down off chairs; Breaking crown down stairs;
Catching flies on the pane; Deep sighs--cause not plain;
Bribing you with kisses For a few farthing blisses.
Wide-a-wake; as you hear, "Mercy's sake, quiet, dear!"
New shoes, new frock; Vague views of what's o'clock
When it's time to go to bed, And scorn sublime for what is said
Folded hands, saying prayers, Understands not nor cares--
Thinks it odd, smiles away; Yet may God hear her pray!
Bed gown white, kiss Dolly; Good night!--that's Polly,
Fast asleep, as you see, Heaven keep my girl for me!
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS
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CRADLE HYMN
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.
See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky! When they sought Him, there they found Him, With his Virgin-Mother by.
See the lovely babe a-dressing; Lovely infant, how He smiled! When He wept, the mother's blessing Soothed and hushed the holy child.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the honest oxen fed; --Peace, my darling! here's no danger! Here's no ox a-near thy bed!
Mayst thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise!
I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire.
ISAAC WATTS
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I LIKE LITTLE PUSSY
I like little Pussy, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But Pussy and I Very gently will play; She shall sit by my side, And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good.
I'll pat little Pussy, And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears, Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw; I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For Pussy can't bear To be worried or teased.
JANE TAYLOR
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THE GRAVEL PATH
Baby mustn't frown, When she tumbles down; If the wind should change--Ah me, What a face her face would be!
Rub away the dirt, Say she wasn't hurt; What a world 'twould be--O my, If all who fell began to cry!
LAURENCE ALMA TADEMA
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Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, Up went pussy-cat, and down went he; Down came pussy-cat, and away Robin ran; Said little Robin Redbreast,