Thursday 31 May 2007

BIMBIMBIE FROM BIMBIMBIE'S BLOG

First of June, First of Winter, today marks the first day of winter here in Australia.





The North Wind Doth Blow


The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then?
Poor thing!

He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing.
Poor thing!


~~~


Thanks to Daisy for reminding me of the first poems that have stayed with me since childhood. Here's a couple more that have come to mind....



This is the very first I can recall my Dad reciting at me...probably because I had my bottom lip out saying don't care. I can still see the illustration of a surly boy sitting in a pan with his arms and legs dangling over the side. And it always pops back into my mind's eye should I hear someone say I don't care.


Don't care didn't care



Don't care was dumb



Don't care was put in a pot



And boiled till he was done.


~~~



Another Favourite was the Owl and the Pussy Cat.





The Owl and the Pussy Cat

by

Edward Lear



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 stars 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!

O 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 on 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.
~~~




And another favourite from childhood was Who Killed Cock Robin





The Death and Burial of Cock Robin



Who killed Cock Robin?


I, said the Sparrow,


with my bow and arrow,


I killed Cock Robin.


*


Who saw him die?


I, said the Fly,


with my little eye,


I saw him die.


*


Who caught his blood?


I, said the Fish,


with my little dish,


I caught his blood.


*


Who'll make the shroud?


I, said the Beetle,


with my thread and needle,


I'll make the shroud.


*


Who'll dig his grave?


I, said the Owl,


with my pick and shovel,


I'll dig his grave.


*


Who'll be the parson?


I, said the Rook,


with my little book,


I'll be the parson.


*


Who'll be the clerk?


I, said the Lark,


if it's not in the dark,


I'll be the clerk.


*


Who'll carry the link?


I, said the Linnet,


I'll fetch it in a minute,


I'll carry the link.


*


Who'll be chief mourner?


I, said the Dove,


I mourn for my love,


I'll be chief mourner.


*


Who'll carry the coffin?


I, said the Kite,


if it's not through the night,


I'll carry the coffin.


*


Who'll bear the pall?


We, said the Wren,


both the cock and the hen,


We'll bear the pall.


*


Who'll sing a psalm?


I, said the Thrush,


as she sat on a bush,


I'll sing a psalm.


*


Who'll toll the bell?


I said the bull,


because I can pull,


I'll toll the bell.


*


All the birds of the air


fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,


when they heard the bell toll


for poor Cock Robin.


~~~


Wednesday 30 May 2007

DAISY LUPIN FROM CATS IN THE KITCHEN, FLORA IN THE GARDEN

For many years of my childhood I adored the following poem. It took me into the world of my imagination and I was so besotted with it that I used to make three dimensional jumblies and set them to sea in a sieve. I used to make shoe box scenes of the lands they visited. It was a poem that really set my imagination on fire.



The Jumblies Edward Lear

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round
,And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!
'They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,
But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!
In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
II
They sailed away in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they sailed so fast,
With only a beautiful pea-green veil
Tied with a riband by way of a sail,
To a small tobacco-pipe mast;
And every one said, who saw them go,'O won't they be soon upset, you know!
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long,
And happen what may, it's extremely wrong
In a Sieve to sail so fast!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
III
The water it soon came in, it did,
The water it soon came in;
So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat,
And they fastened it down with a pin.
And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,
And each of them said, 'How wise we are!
Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,
While round in our Sieve we spin!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
IV
And all night long they sailed away;And when the sun went down,
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong'
In the shade of the mountains brown.
'O Timballo! How happy we are,
When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar,
And all night long in the moonlight pale,
We sail away with a pea-green sail,
In the shade of the mountains brown!
'Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
V
They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,
To a land all covered with trees,
And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart
,And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,
And a hive of silvery Bees.
And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,
And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,
And no end of Stilton Cheese.
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
VI
And in twenty years they all came back,
In twenty years or more
,And every one said, 'How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,
And the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;
And every one said, 'If we only live,
We too will go to sea in a Sieve,---
To the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
~~~
The following poem is one of those that my Father would recite to me if I asked for a story or was ill in bed with some childhood ailment such as measles. I was always fascinated by smugglers and loved smuggling stories, and the mysterious trips through the night with horses and donkeys with hooves covered in sacking.



A Smuggler's Song by Rudyard Kipling
If you wake at Midnight, and hear a horse's feet,
Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five and twenty ponies trotting through the dark
-Brandy for the Parson.'Baccy for the Clerk;
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Running round the woodlump, if you chance to find little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine,
Don't you shout to come and look, nor use 'em for your play.
Put the brushwood back again - and they'll be gone next day!
Five and twenty ponies...........
If you see the stable door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining's wet and warm - don't you ask no more!
Five and twenty ponies...........
If you meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red,
You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you "pretty maid", and chuck you 'neath the chin,
Don't you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been!
Five and twenty ponies...........
If you do as you've been told, 'likely there's a chance,
You'll be given a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of pretty lace, and a velvet hood
- A present from the Gentlemen, along o' being good!
Five and twenty ponies...........
Them that asks no questions isn't told a lie -
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
~~~
This is another poem that sent my world of imagination spinning, and I used to draw this lady and try to make dolls of her. I think she was an early icon of mine
.

Meg Merrilies john keats
Old Meg she was a gypsy;
And liv'd upon the moors:
Her bed it was the brown heath turf,
And her house was out of doors
Her apples were swart blackberries,
Her currants, pods o' broom;
Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,
Her book a church-yard tomb.
Her brothers were the craggy hills,
Her sisters larchen trees;
Alone with her great family
She liv'd as she did please.

No breakfast had she many a morn,
No dinner many a noon,
And 'stead of supper she would stare
Full hard against the moon.
But every morn, of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding,
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited mats o' rushes,
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes.
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen,
And tall as Amazon:
An old red blanket cloak she wore,
A chip hat had she on.
God rest her aged bones somewhere —
She died full long agone!
~~~
The final poem today is another that my Father would recite and I always seemed to feel the pull of the wind and the sea and could almost smell the brine, I think this poem make me feel the way I do about Cornwall.


Sea Fever by John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again,
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And 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 tide
Is 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 blown 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 wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn
from a laughing fellow rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream
when the long trick's over
~~~