POEMS BY JAMES K. BAXTER
THE SEAGULL
"Seagull, seagull, Riding high, What do you see With your bold, bright eye?"
"I see the sun On a winter morning Over the edge Of the broad sea burning;
"I see the boats On the harbour smoking; I see an engine; With the stoker 
stoking
"I see the town And a church with its steeple, And the pavements full Of 
hurrying people.
"The men and women And girls and boys Look far, far smaller Than painted 
toys.
"I like to glide On my wings and stare; I like to ride On the pillowy air;
"But if you'll throw me A crust or two, I'll come right down And eat with 
you."
TURN, TURN THE CAPSTAN
Turn, turn the capstan, boys, Sings the one-eyed sailor. Sew the rich 
man's overcoat, Hums the bandy tailor.
Pin, pin the washing up, Sighs the scrubbing lady. Dig for a bone, says the 
little black dog Down in the garden shady.
Push, push the brushes through, Calls John at the top of the chimney. Wind 
the clock, wind the clock, Says Grandad
tall and spindly.
Milk, milk, milk the cow, Sings the farmer's daughter. Sleep, sleep, all 
the day, Says the old grey cat in the corner.
SWING, SWING, SWING
Swing, swing, swing,  Swinging wide and high - If you swing high enough Your 
feet will touch the sky.
If your foot should touch it Then the sky will break. It'll make no 
difference when you say You did it by mistake.
The sun will growl and grumble, The stars will tumble down, And the 
Weather Man come running In a long black
gown.
The rivers will run backwards, The sums will add up wrong; You'll come to 
school on Saturday And play the whole
night long.
It will take a ton of thistledown, A ladder brought from Spain, And a new 
magician's hammer To patch it up again.
THE ROOSTER
Have you seen the rooster hopping When the fowls are being fed, With his 
shiny black feathers And his comb bright
red?
Before the sun has risen While we are all asleep He jumps down from his 
perch And climbs the rubbish heap.
He flaps his strong black wings, And, standing on tiptoe, He bids the world 
good morning With a long, loud crow.
But when I bring their breakfast, Of wheat and greens and bread, The 
rooster will eat nothing Till all his hens are fed.
He ruffles up his feathers If a dog or cat comes by, And looks through the 
netting With a fierce, bright eye.
JACK FROST
Look out, look out,
Jack Frost's about!
He'll nip your ears
And bite your snout;
He'll chap your knees
And make you sneeze;
Your fingers and
Your toes he'll freeze.
His magic makes
The mountains grow;
He learnt it from
His mother, Snow.
Yet he makes tiny
Glittering fronds
On window panes,
And ice on ponds.
When out of school
We dance and skip
He's waiting there
To pinch and nip.
Beware, beware!
Leave nothing bare
When Jack Frost whistles
Through the air.
HOKITIKA BILL
Hokitika Bill, Hokitika Bill, He worked for a day At the threshing-mill,
He worked for a day Where the sacks were filling For a penny and a pound 
And a silver shilling.
Then Hokitika Bill He called for his pay, Climbed on his saddle-hack And 
rode away.
Hokitika Bill, Hokitika Bill, Rode on his saddle-hack Over the hill.
With a billy full of sugar And some flour in a bag, All wrapped up In a 
blanket swag.
THE SHIPS
The little ships From the harbour sail Bang in the teeth Of a southerly 
gale.
The great white waves Wash to and fro; Drum, drum, drum, Say the engines 
below.
With their oilskins on The captains stand; They drop their nets Far out 
from land.
And they bring home, For you and me, Snapper and groper And terakihi.
Then the little ships At anchor lie, And the captains' coats Hang up to dry.
TWENTY LITTLE ENGINES
Twenty little engines Whistling in the yard - One lost his whistle And he 
cried SO hard
That every little engine STOPPED in the yard And the stationmaster ran 
And BELLOWED to the guard,
"Tommy's lost his whistle, His long, loud whistle, And no one can shunt 
When he's crying SO hard."
The guard said, "WHAT ?" And the guard said, "WHO?" I've a brand new 
whistle That I think will do;
"It's made of copper And it's made of tin; There's a hole at the bottom 
Where the steam goes in;
"There's a hole at the top Where the steam goes out, Just like the 
whistle On a tea kettle spout.
"It goes - Peep! Peep! And it goes - Hoo! Hoo! It's just the kind of whistle That will do for you."
Twenty little engines Shunting in the sun - Tommy got his whistle And the work WAS DONE.
THE GORSE FIRE
Oh what a worry When the gorse bushes catch! Somebody careless Has dropped a match.
Somebody careless Let it fall down, Took no notice That the grass was brown.
A little thin flame Came galloping fast Then roared up higher Than the top of a mast.
The black smoke climbed Like a tower in the sky Till there was no room For the birds to fly. 
And the crackling bushes Blazed higher and higher Up the brown hillside Like a river on fire!
IF I WERE KING OF SWEDEN
If I were King of Sweden I would never wear a crown, But I'd ride in a golden carriage With the window down.
I would wake up very early In my palace by the sea; I would breakfast on marshmallow And have the same for tea.
Each day would be my birthday, I'd buy fizzy drink in kegs; Once a month there'd be an Easter With enormous Easter eggs.
If I saw a man or woman Who looked hungry in the street, I'd invite them into dinner And give them pies to eat.
If I were King of Sweden I'd go walking to and fro, And every person that I met Would stop and say, "Hullo!"
THE FIREMEN
"Clang! Clang! Clang!'' Says the red fire bell - "There's a big fire blazing 
At the Grand Hotel"
The firemen shout As they tumble out of bed And slide down the pole To 
the fire engine shed.
The fire engine starts With a cough and a roar, And they all climb aboard 
As it shoots from the door.
The firemen's helmets, The ladders and hoses, Are brassy and bright As a 
jug full of roses.
"Whee! Whee! Whee!" - You can hear the cry Of the siren shrieking As they 
hurtle by.
At the Grand Hotel There is smoke and steam, Flames at the windows And 
people who scream.
The biggest fireman Carries down A fat old lady In her dressing gown.
When the fire is finished The firemen go Back through the same streets 
Driving slow.
Home at the station The firemen stay And polish up the nozzles For the next 
fire day.

The Frog

Be kind and tender to the frog, And do not call him names,
As "Slimy Skin", or "Polly-wog",
 Or otherwise "Ugly James",
Or "Gap-a-grin", or "Toad-gone wrong",
Or "Billy Bandy-knees",
The frog is justly sensitive
To epithets like these.
 No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).
HILAIRE BELLOC

The Mouse, the Frog, and the Little Red Hen

Once a Mouse, a Frog, and a Little Red Hen
Together kept a house;
The Frog was the laziest of frogs,
And lazier still was the Mouse.
The work all fell on the Little Red Hen,
Who had to get the wood,
And build the fires, and scrub, and cook,
And sometimes hunt the food.
One day as she went scratching round,
She found a bag of rye;
Said she, "Now who will make some bread?"
Said lazy Mouse, "Not I."
"Nor I," croaked Frog as he drowsed in the shade;
Red Hen made no reply,
But flew around with bowl and spoon,
And mixed and stirred the rye.
"Who'll make the fire to bake the bread?"
Said the Mouse again, "Not I."
And, scarcely opening his sleepy eyes,
Frog made the same reply.
The Little Red Hen said never a word, But a roaring fire she made;
And while the bread was baking brown, "Who'll set the table ?" she said.
"Not I," said the Frog with a sleepy yawn; "Nor I," said the Mouse again.
So the table she set and the bread put on, "Who'll eat this bread?" said 
the Hen.
"I will," cried the Frog. "And I," squeaked Mouse, As they near the table 
drew.
"Oh, no you won't," said the Little Red Hen, And away with the loaf she 
flew.

Disaster

Once there lived a little man Where a little river ran, And he had a little 
farm and a little dairy-O! And he had a little
plough, And a little dappled cow Which he often called his pretty little 
fairy-O!
And his dog he called Fidelle, For he loved his master well; And he had a 
little pony for his pleasure-O! In a sty not
very big He'd a frisky little pig, Which he often called his little piggy 
treasure-O!
Once his little maiden Ann, With her pretty little can, Went a-milking when 
the morning sun was beaming-O! When
she fell - I don't know how - But she stumbled o'er the plough And the cow was 
quite astonished at her screaming-O!
Little maid cried out in vain, While the milk ran o'er the plain, Little 
pig ran grunting after it so gaily-O! While the little
dog behind, For a share was much inclined, So he pulled back squeaking 
piggy by the taily-O!
Such a clatter now began As alarmed the little man, Who came capering 
from out his little Stable-O! Pony trod on
doggy's toes, Doggy snapped at piggy's nose, Piggy made as great a noise 
as he was able-O!
Then to make the story short, Little pony with a snort Lifted up his 
little heels so very clever-O! And the man he
tumbled down And he nearly cracked his crown, And this only made the 
matter worse than ever-O!
TRADITIONAL


The Lonely Scarecrow

My poor old bones - I've only two A broomstick and a broken stave. My 
ragged gloves are a disgrace. My one peg-foot
is in the grave.
I wear the labourer's old clothes: Coat, shirt and trousers all undone. I 
bear my cross upon a hill In rain and shine in
snow and sun.
I cannot help the way I look. My funny hat is full of hay. O, wild birds, 
come and nest in me! Why do you always fly
away? 
by James Kirkup.

Beware!

Beware! This animal is wild! 
Slinking slowly through the trees,
Green eyes glistening, slow tail twitching,
Claws to pounce, and teeth to seize.
No, not some deadly jungle creature
Hunting prey at river's edge;
Kitten's pouncing on her shadow,
In and out the lilac hedge.
By Jan Waugh


