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Wee Willie Winkie
Wee Willie Winkie
Runs through the town,
Upstairs and downstairs
In his nightgown.
Rapping at the windows,
Crying through the lock,
"Are the children all in bed?
For it's now eight o'clock.
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What Are Little
Girls Made Of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails,
And puppy dog tails,
That's what little boys are made of.
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Where Go the Boats?
Robert Louis Stevenson
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating--
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
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Where is Thumbkin?
Where is Thumbkin?
Where is Thumbkin?
Here I am, here I am.
How are you today?
Very well, thank you.
Go away, go away.
Where is Pointer?
Where is Pointer?
Here I am, here I am.
How are you today?
Very well, thank you.
Go away, go away.
Where is Ring Man?
Where is Ring Man?
Here I am, here I am.
How are you today?
Very well, thank you.
Go away, go away.
Where is Small Man?
Where is Small Man?
Here I am, here I am.
How are you today?
Very well, thank you.
Go away, go away.
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Whether
Whether the weather be fine
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not.
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Who Blows You Out?
O little round and yellow moon,
Why have you lit yourself so soon?
Jane won't bring in the lamp for me,
She says it's light enough to see!
Perhaps you did not know the time,
But don't you hear the church clocks chime?
Who blows you out, I wonder, when
The shining day comes back again?
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Who Is That Singing?
Who is that singing up in the chimney?
Who is that whistling through the bare trees?
That is the wind who flies as he listeth,
That is the wind whom nobody sees.
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Wild Flowers
Yellow Kingcup, is it true
That Fairie Kings drink out of you,
Golden Kingcup full of dew?
"My cup is filled," the flower replies,
"For Kings and Queens and butterflies."
Creeping scarlet Pimpernel,
With your closed or opened bell,
Do you shower and shine foretell?
"Low lying on the dusty grass,
I am the poor man's weather-glass."
Fiery Golans, you who glow
Like suns upon the marshes low,
From earth or heaven do you grow?
"A giant dropped us from his car,
Flakes of the sun's own fire we are."
Daisy, with a yellow breast,
More beautiful than all the rest,
'Tis you can say who loves us best.
"I rise and spread beneath your feet,
In silver leaves, my portents sweet."
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Willie Worm
Willie Worm's home was an apple tree.
His family was content as worms can be.
They'd laugh and wiggle, dance and squirm,
But Willie was not a happy worm.
Every night this worm would dream
Of chocolate cake and white ice cream.
But in the morning he would hear,
"Come down and eat your apple, Dear."
He hated apples quite a bunch,
But that is what he had for lunch.
At dinner time, to end each day,
An apple, raw, the same old way.
He asked his mom for something new,
A big pot roast or maybe stew.
"How about a steak or flounder?
Or better yet a quarter pounder!"
But Missus Worm was not amused.
She thought her Willie quite confused.
Apples were always a worm's delight,
They savored each and every bite.
She said "My son, clean up you act.
Just eat your food and don't talk back."
He told his friends, "She made it clear,
If that's the deal, I'm out of here."
He dressed up in his Sunday suit
And said, "I'm tired of eating fruit,
I crave some meat, I need some starches."
And crawled off for the golden arches.
He inched along and sang a song,
"Come with me, you can't go wrong.
Climb aboard and get away,
Have you had your break today?"
Willie entered with a wiggle,
Which made the people point and giggle.
He checked the menu, gave a squeal,
Then ordered up a happy meal.
He ate the food with great delight.
He thought the fries were done just right.
When through, he said, "I think I'll try
A great big piece of that hot pie."
He found the crust so crisp and nice
With a tiny hint of tasty spice.
But the goo inside's what made him grin.
As it trickled down his wee worm chin.
He asked the folks at his final bite,
"Wow, what's inside of this delight?"
The manager came by to say,
"I picked those apples just today.
"Don't be surprised, I wouldn't lie.
You just ate an apple pie."
Willie said, "How can that be?
I thought that you were kiddin' me.
"I ate 'em raw for every meal,
In pie they're great. Wow! What a deal!
I'd crawl home a happy guy.
If I could bake an apple pie."
The manager took him to the back,
Took a little apron off a rack.
Said, "This young worm here wants to try
To learn to bake an apple pie."
First he had to roll the dough
So he could get the crust just so.
He mixed the filling to begin
To scoop the goop and apples in.
His pie was great---they told him so.
Then waved good-bye ---he had to go.
"Have a nice day and you come back.
We'll share your next Big Mac Attack."
He headed home to the apple tree
With a bag of dough and a recipe.
He inched along, his hopes sky high,
He'd bake his folks an apple pie.
He gave a knock at the front hole.
His mother answered, "Bless my Soul.
Guess who's here?--It's little Willie!
Welcome home, we were worried silly.
"We placed an ad in the Worm Gazette.
Put a 'Worm lost' spot on the internet.
It's really great to have you back.
Would you like an apple for a snack?"
"No thanks," said Willie with a smile,
"May I use the kitchen for a while?"
He baked a pie---Oh! What a sight!
His family ate it with delight.
His dad said, "Son, I'll tell you true.
We're tired of those raw apples, too.
We want you here, please join the firm.
You'll be the world's first baker worm."
So Willie wears a tall white hat.
The worms think he's a real cool cat.
The orchard's filled with happy critters.
And Willie now bakes apple fritters.
Smart Willie took a situation
And used his worm imagination.
Gave dull, raw apples a little twist.
Bakes fritters, pies and apple crisp.
Sometimes when folks just can't agree
They talk it over and then may see:
They can turn apples into pies.
That's what we call a compromise.
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The Wind
The wind sat idle all day long,
No work to do had he,
He hummed aloud a tuneless song
That passed from tree to tree
In sighs, sang he.
The wind sat idle till the night,
Then flew by field and town:
The listening children caught no sight
Of fleeting beard, or brown
And windy gown.
Like teeth that chatter with the cold
Shake startled window-panes,
Flicker the lamps whose flames grow bold;--
The old house door complains
In dirge-like strains.
Was that but wind upon the stair?
How wild it is and dark!
Come near the fire, draw up your chair,
The chimney roars, and hark
How the dogs bark!
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The Windmill
"I'm busy now," the windmill said,
Waving his arms about his head;
"Don't interrupt me while I'm grinding
The flour to make the baker's bread."
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Words
What kind of words did you use today?
What kind of words did you send away?
Did you speak of gloom and doom and death,
or were your words of happiness?
Did they all go running about
leaping and dashing, did they shout?
Were they gay, come laughing out,
or were they angry, want to pout?
Did they laugh, chuckle and giggle
or quietly happy, friendly and nice,
kindly loving, tender and soft,
beautiful pink, sugar and spice?
Or were they mean, ugly and rude,
hurtful and hateful and naughty too?
Think of the words you send today
and think of what they mean to say.
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Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew
Where are you going and what do you wish
The old man asked the three
We've come to fish for the herring fish
That swim in the beautiful sea
Nets of silver and gold have we
Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod
So all night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinklin' foam
Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe
Bringing the fisherman home
'Twas oh so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing the beautiful sea
But I shall name you the fisherman three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes
And Nod is a weary head
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle bed
So shut your eyes while Mommy sings
Of the wonderful sights that be
And you shall see all the beautiful things
As you rock in that misty sea
Just like the fisherman three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
Just like the fisherman three
Wynken, Blynken and Nod
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© copyright The Lord's Rain.
All rights reserved.
Graphics by: moody motifs
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