Captain Kidd
Oh, my name was Robert Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed, Oh, my name was Robert Kidd, as I sailed; My sinful footsteps slid; God's 
laws they did forbid; But still wickedly I did, as I sailed.
I'd a Bible in my hand, when I sailed, when I sailed; I'd a Bible in my hand, when I sailed; I'd a Bible in my hand, by my father's 
great command, And I sunk it in the sand, when I sailed.
I spied three ships of France, as I sailed, as I sailed; I spied three ships of France, as I sailed; I spied three ships of France; to 
them I did And I took them all by chance, as I sailed.
I spied three ships of Spain, as I sailed, as I sailed; I spied three ships of Spain, as I sailed; I spied three ships of
Spain; I fired on them amain, Till most of them were slain, as I sailed.
I murdered William Moore, as I sailed, as I sailed; I murdered William. Moore, as I sailed; I murdered William
Moore, and I left him in his gore, Not many leagues from shore, as I sailed.
I'd ninety bars of gold, as I sailed, as I sailed; I'd ninety bars of gold, as I sailed; I'd dollars, manifold, and riches uncontrolled 
And by these I lost my soul, as I sailed.
ANONYMOUS

Night Song
BEFORE I go to bed at night I pull back the curtains and turn out the light. There are stars in the 
sky And the street
lights glow, Speckled lights on high Golden dots below,
And here and there golden windows show There are people awake in the houses below In the night time, 
sleep time,
Golden speckled dark time, Sleep very tight time, Good night.
CARYL HAMER

The Invader
BILL MYNA is a naughty bird Who thinks it quite a jest To push the Starling's new-laid eggs Out from 
her cosy nest.
So my Dad built a wooden house With round hole in the wall, Right size for Starling to squeeze 
through, For Myna
just too small.
Now Myna scolds with raucous voice, Round the nest hole scratching, While Mrs Starling sits at ease, 
Five eggs
safely hatching.
RENE M. THOMAS

Refuge 
ON MY PUSSY Willow tree Leaves are green in summer, Cheeky sparrows chirp and flit, Feathered wings a-flutter.
Winter comes with icy winds, Leaves are whirled and scattered Pussy Willow's limbs are bare, Twigs and branches
ragged.
Hungry sparrows perch there still, All my movements checking. When I toss the bread crumbs out Down they swoop
a-pecking.
RENE M. THOMAS

The Pelican Chorus
KING AND QUEEN of the Pelicans we; No other Birds so grand we see! None but we have feet like fins! 
With lovely
leathery throats and chins! Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee, We think no Birds so happy as we! 
Plumskin, Ploshskin,
Pelican jill, We think so then, and we thought so still!
We live on the Nile. The Nile we love. By night we sleep on the cliffs above. By day we fish, and at 
eve we stand On
long bare islands of yellow sand. And when the sun sinks slowly down, And the great rock walls grow 
dark and
brown, Where the purple river rolls fast and dim, And the ivory This starlike skim, Wing to wing we 
dance around,
Stamping our feet with a flumpy sound, Opening our mouths as Pelicans ought, And this is the song we 
nightly snort:
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee, We think no Birds so happy as we! Plumskin, Ploshskin, Pelican 
jill, We think so
then, and we thought so still!
EDWARD LEAR

Winter
IN THE bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan;
Earth stood hard as iron;
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

Armies in the Fire
THE LAMPS now glitter down the street; Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly 
falls,  About the
garden trees and walls.
Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, 
And flickers on the
backs of books.
Armies march by tower and spire Of cities blazing, in the fire, Till as I gaze with staring eyes, The 
armies fade, the lustre dies.
Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching 
go!
Blinking embers, tell me true Where are those armies marching to, And what the burning city is That 
crumbles in
your furnaces!
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

Mad Farmer's Song
MY FATHER he left me three acres of land, Sing ivy, sing ivy;
My father he left me three acres of land, Sing holly, go whistle, and ivy!
I ploughed it all with a ram's horn, Sing ivy, sing ivy;
And sowed it all over with one pepper-corn, Sing holly, go whistle, and ivy.
I harrowed it with a bramble bush, Sing ivy, sing ivy;
And reaped it with my little penknife, Sing holly, go whistle, and ivy.
ANONYMOUS

The Dove
I HAD a dove, and the sweet dove died;
 And I have thought it died of grieving; O, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied
With a single thread of my own hand's weaving;
Sweet little red feet, why should you die?
Why should you leave me, sweet bird, why? You lived alone in the forest tree, Why, pretty thing! 
would you not live
with me? I kissed you oft and gave you white peas; Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
JOHN KEATS

The Heir
MY AUNT she died a month ago, And left me all her riches,
A feather-bed and a wooden leg,
And a pair of calico breeches;
A coffee-pot without a spout,
A mug without a handle,
A baccy box without a lid,
And half a farthing candle.
ANONYMOUS

The Moon
THE MOON was but a chin of gold  A night or two ago, And now she turns 
her perfect face  Upon the world below.
EMILY DICKINSON

Nonsense
A MAN in the wilderness asked of me, How many strawberries grow in the sea. I answered him as I thought good,
As many red herrings as grow in the wood.
ANONYMOUS

Three jovial Huntsmen
THERE WERE three jovial huntsmen,
As I have heard them say,
And they would go a-hunting
All on a summer's day.
All the day they hunted,
And nothing could they find
But a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing with the wind.
One said it was a ship,
The other said Nay;
The third said it was a house
With the chimney blown away.
And all the night they hunted,
And nothing could they find;
But the moon a-gliding,
A-gliding with the wind.
One said it was the moon,
The other said Nay;
The third said it was a cheese,
And half of it cut away.
ANONYMOUS

Mist
A hill full, a hole full,
You cannot catch a bowlful.

At the Tub, Tub, Tub
An old woman, I rub At the tub, tub, tub,
The clothes in the suds to rub, rub, rub; But when they are clean, And white to be seen.
I'll dress like a lady, and dance on the green.

Sheepskin and Bees' Wax
Now I'm going to sing to you
About my Aunt Jemima;
She used to make the best of plaster,
Down in Carolina;
Sheepskin and bees' wax,
Thunder-pitch for plaster;
The more you try to pull it off,
It's sure to stick the faster.
Skin a ma, lick ma, doodle di,
Skin a ma, lick ma, dido;
Skin a ma, lick ma, doodle di, Skin a ma, lick ma, dido.


