LYING AWAKE.
I went to bed at seven o'clock, And lay awake, And lay awake.
I went to bed at seven o'clock,
And heard eight strike, and then
I turned my pillow down-side-up, And patted it, And patted it,
Then shut my eyes and played at snores
And lay awake again.
I thought of all the sheep I could, And counted them, And counted them.
I counted hens and ducks and geese,
And rabbits in a wood.
I counted up to millions  And millions  And millions,
And then I started billions,
But it wasn't any good.
At last I simply gave it up And lay awake, And lay awake.
I said, " I just won't try to sleep.
I'll stay awake and think."
And that's exactly what I did For hours and hours And hours and hours,
Just as real grown-up people do.
I didn't sleep a wink . .
I don't know just what time it was, Or how it was, Or when it was.
I don't know just what time it was,  But someone came and said,
"It's quite time you were getting up.  It's rather late.  It's very late.
Wake up now. Don't drop off again.  You are a sleepyhead!"
-RODNEY BENNETT, in " Child Education." (Evans.)

THINGS TO WEAR.
If you wear a woven ring Made of grass, You can hear the fairies sing, As they pass; You can hear 
them rush and scurry, When they're rather in a hurry.
If you wear a daisy chain, Neat and strong, You can hear the goblin train Rush along, You can hear it 
hoot and whistle, As it dives beneath a thistle.
If you lace two grassy blades, In your shoe, You can dream of fairy glades, Fairies too. If you've 
found a four leaf clover, You can dream this four times over.
-AGNES GROZIER HERBERTSON.

THE DREAM.
My dream? Can I remember my dream?
I was floating down the nursery stair, And my little terrier ran in front With his feet treading on 
the air; And when we came to the dining-room, The King and Queen
were there. And Father and Mother, two and two; And a baby elephant from the Zoo, Each on a golden 
chair; And three soldiers, and Mary Rose Riding an ostrich,
that pecked her toes, And Uncle Jim Looking very trim, Eating a kipper, And, when they had sung to 
the King, They all sat down in a ring, And played at Hunt the
Slipper.
-HERBERT ASQUITH, in " Pillicock Hill." (Heinemann.) (Extract.)

SEASIDE DAYS.
No shoes no socks, No shorts, no frocks, Just a bathing suit so small It's really hardly there at all 
And a sun-hat when it's
hot, (Though, of course, we'd rather not!)
Blue sea, blue sky, And a breeze that hurries by, Little waves in twinkling rows That run to curl 
round dancing toes, Big
waves that crash and break - Run away for goodness sake!
Wooden spades, tin pails
Shrimping nets for catching whales,
Sand in toes and clothes and hair, In the bed and everywhere! Oh, it's fun beside the sea For Bobby, Jennifer - 
and me!

THE ELEPHANT.
When people call this beast to mind,  They marvel more and more At such a LITTLE tail behind,
So LARGE a trunk before.
-HILAIRE BELLOC.

BLACKBERRY JAM.
Blackberries on the brambles!
Winnie cries, " Here I am!
And through the thicket she scrambles
To pick the berries for jam.
And soon she has torn her pinny,
And scratched her face, poor lamb!
But what does it matter to Winnie
When she's picking berries for jam?
And soon, oh soon (need you ask it?)
The berries her small mouth cram.
She brings home an empty basket,
But she's full of blackberry jam.
-ELEANOR FARJEON.

CHERRY STONES.
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor,
Rich Man, Poor Man, Ploughboy, Thief
And what about a Cowboy,
Policeman, Jailer,
Engine-driver,
Or Pirate Chief?
What about a Postman, or a Keeper at the Zoo?
What about the Circus Man who lets the people through?
What about the man who takes the pennies for the roundabouts and swings!
Or the man who plays the organ, and the other man who sings?
What about a Conjuror with rabbits in his pockets?
What about a Rocket Man who's always making rockets?
Oh, there's such a lot of things to do and such a lot to be,
That there's always lots of cherries on my little cherry tree!
-A. A. MILNE, in " Now we are Six." (Methuen.)

WHAT CAN A LITTLE CHAP DO?
What can a little chap do For his country and for you?
What CAN a little chap do?
He can fight like a knight For the Truth and the Right
That's one good thing he can do.
He can shun all that's mean, He can keep himself clean, Both without and within
That's another good thing he can do.
His soul he can brace Against everything base, And the trace will be seen All his life in his face
That's a very fine thing he can do.
He can look to the Light, He can keep his thoughts white, He can fight the great fight, He can do 
with his might What is good in God's sight
Those are excellent things he can do.
Though his years are but few, He can march in the queue Of the Good and the Great Who battled with 
fate And won through
That's a wonderful thing he can do.
JOHN OXENHAM.

SCHOOL'S OUT.
Girls scream, Boys shout; Dogs bark, School's out.
Cats run, Horses shy; Into trees Birds fly.

Babes wake Open eyed, If they can Tramps hide.
Old man Hobble home., Merry mites Welcome.
-WILLIAM H. DAVIES, in "Things, New and Old."
(Nelson.) (Jonathan Cape, Ltd., copyright holders.)

BUMBLEBEEDORY AND PIGGYLEWINK.
Bumblebeedory and Piggylewink
Went down to the river to swim,
Bumblebeedory he stood on the brink
And Piggylewink on the brim.
Said Bumblebeedory to Piggylewink,
" The water seems icy to-day."
So they just wet their toeses, their tails, and their noses,
And off they skedaddled away!

ROSEMARY.
Rosemary, sweet Rosemary, Went crying up the aisle; She knew not if the carpet Were made of rope or 
pile; She only knew she'd walked and walked A long way from the
door, And she was very miserable, For she was only four.
Rosemary, the bride's sweet maid, Had never thought at all What brought her here to this strange place - She was so 
very small; She'd never seen a lady like This tall one dressed in
white - So tall, so white, her little heart Was beating fast with fright.
Rosemary, sweet Rosemary, Was told at last to stop,
And on her pale blue satin She fell down with a flop; And when some voice so scolding, Bade her get 
up again, She wiped her funny little nose, Upon the bridal train.
-" Punch." (Slightly altered.)

ROBERT IN BED.
Ten pink toes, Two brown feet, One button nose, A crumpled sheet; In a nest, Robert lies Parted lip, Closing eyes;
All at rest Now he seems With his ship And his dreams: Ten pink toes, Two brown feet, One button nose, A crumpled sheet.
-HERBERT ASQUITH, in " Pillicock Hill." (Heinemann.)

RAIN.
It's raining on the houses, It's raining everywhere, And little streams of water Are running here and 
there. It's falling from the roof-tops And running down the spout And dripping
on the brollies Of the people that are out. It's raining on the doggies And raining on the cats, It's 
raining on the gentlemen And dripping off their hats. It's lovely fun to see the rain
As from the sky it pours, When you're a little boy That's watching Dry and safe indoors.
- MURIEL A. LEVY. in "Blackie's Children's  Annual 1933" (Altered.)

" ELBOW GREASE."
 It's not a powder, It's not in blocks, It's not in bottles Or in a box; But people say It is good for 
glass, Furniture, china, And steel and brass.
Mother says, " Use it," And Nurse, the same, But how can you use What's just a name? Whenever I ask, They only tease And 
say, " Rub harder!" So tell me, please, Have
any of you Seen " Elbow Grease?"
-	ELIZABETH FLEMING, in Nelson's "Rhythm and Rhyme, No. II."

THE CHOICE.
I met a Lancer;
The Lancer said to me,  Master, Master, what would you like to be ?  I looked at the Lancer,  
Terrible, tall, and trim,  And told him that I'd like to be
Him, Him, Him!
I met a Plumber;
The Plumber said to me,
Mister, Mister, what would you like to be?
Look at the lot of tools I've got,
You'd like the same, I guess!
I looked at the lot and said,
" Yes, Yes, Yes! "
I met a Sailor;
The Sailor said to me,
Cheero, Hero, what would you like to be?
It's hard to be a Bos'un tight,
But wouldn't you like to try?"
I said, for he was right,
" Aye, Aye, Aye! "
I met an Airman;
The Airman said to me,
Hey, Boy! Say, Boy, what do you want
to be?
A Pedlar or a Pirate King,
A Follow-me-Lad, or who?
I bowed my head To him and said,
"You, You, You!"
-	FFRIDA WOLFE.

STAIRS.
Bumpety, bumpety, down I go,
Terribly hard, and not very slow.
Bumpety bump, on every stair, For I trod on a step that wasn't there, Or, now I think of it, was it 
because
I didn't tread on a step that was?
-LESLEY GORDON, in "The Merry-go-Round."

NO FAIRIES ADMITTED.
" Well, I don't want fairies
To live in my house, " said Jane. " I like a house tidy,
And ordinary, and plain. And if you have fairies
You have to have magic too; And I don't want magic,
Upsetting my house - do you?
I don't want my playthings
To come alive one day. I like to be able
To leave them all locked away. I don't want our Fido
To talk as we talk; you see, I like him best barking
And wagging his tail at me.
I don't want things magic,
And everything turned to gold! And clocks that start singing,
And people who don't grow old. I like what I'm used to,
And everything nice and plain, So I don't want fairies,
Upsetting my house," said Jane.
Jane printed a notice
To pin on the play-room door:
"No Fairies Admitted ";
But Jill - and Jane never saw - Jill wrote in the corner:
" Jane's out every second day, And I want you, fairies;
So come in while Jane's away."
-MARION ST. J. WEBB. (Slightly altered.)

THE THREE FOXES.
Once upon a time there were three little foxes
Who didn't wear stockings, and they didn't wear sockses,
But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses,
And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.
They lived in the forest in three little houses,
And they didn't wear coats and they didn't wear trousies.
They ran through the woods on their little bare tootsies,
And they played " Touch last " with a family of mouses.
They didn't go shopping in the High Street shopses,
But caught what they wanted in the woods and copses,
They all went fishing, and they caught three wormses,
They went out hunting, and they caught three wopses.
They went to a Fair, and they all won prizes - Three plum puddingses and three mince pieses. They rode 
on elephants and swang on swingses, And hit three coconuts at
coconut shieses.
That's all that I know of the three little foxes Who kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.
They lived in the forest in three little houses, But they didn't wear coats and they didn't wear 
trousies,
And they didn't wear stockings and they didn't wear sockses.
-A. A. MILNE, in "When We Were very Young." (Methuen.)

SHINING THINGS.
I love all shining things - the lovely moon,
The silver stars at night, gold sun at noon;
A glowing rainbow in a stormy sky,
Or bright clouds hurrying, when wind goes by.
I love the glow-worm's elf-light in the lane,
And leaves a-shine with glistening drops of rain;
The glinting wings of bees and butterflies,
My purring pussy's green and shining eyes.
I love the shining buttons on my coat,
I love the bright beads round my mother's throat.
I love the coppery flames of red and gold,
That cheer and comfort me when I'm a-cold.
The beauty of all shining things is yours and mine,
It was a lovely thought of God's to make things shine.
-ELIZABETH GOULD, in "Child Education." (Evans.)

THE JUG AND THE TEAPOT
The Jug and the Teapot lived side by side; The Teapot smiled, but the Milk-Jug cried. He said he 
wanted a little hat; But the Tea-Tray said, "You can't have that!"
" If the Teapot has one, why can't I? " Asked the Milk-Jug heaving a heavy sigh. Said the kindly 
Teapot, " Borrow mine "; And the Milk-Jug thought the plan was fine.
But the Teapot's hat was far too small, And didn't fit the Jug at all! It fell inside, and there is 
no doubt That they had some trouble to get it out!
" What did I tell you? " the Tea-Tray said, " A Jug should not wear a hat on its head."
-ELEANOR HALSEY, in "The Youngest Omnibus." (Nelson.)

MOTHS.
Two triangles on a wall - One is Peter, one is Paul, There they lie so quiet and still; I wonder if they 
both feel ill?
Peter, Peter, tell me why So flattened-out and still you
lie? But Peter will not turn around, And Paul, he does not make a sound.
I say, " Will you two play with me? We'll have a lovely game for three." But, no, they will not talk 
at all - Two triangles on a wall.
-From " Gloria's Book" by GLORIA RAWLINSON, a New Zealand poet.

THE NIMBLE THIMBLE.
I put my thimble on a shelf, But down it tumbled by itself. I put it next upon the table, It tumbled 
down when it was able. I put it next upon a chair, It somehow tumbled down
from there. I put it last upon the mat, " Now, Thimble, tumble down from that But down the sloping 
floor it dribbled Into a hole the mouse had nibbled. So, Shopman, please,
another thimble, But one that isn't quite so nimble.
-RODNEY BENNETT, in "The Child's Book of Verse." (Evans Bros.)

TEN GREY POPLARS
Ten grey poplars Watching all forlorn, Leafless, flowerless, Weeping in the dawn.
Spring time, summer time Somewhere have I seen Ten gay poplar trees Dressed in green.
-SYLVIA DOBSON, in "the Poetry Review."

A THOUGHT.
If all the world were upside-down  And underfoot were blue,
And overhead were green and brown Whatever should we do?
The seas would empty with a run In one terrific splash,
And likely, too, put out the sun And turn the stars to ash.
We could not lie upon our beds, Our beds would lie on us;
We'd have to walk upon our heads To catch an upset bus.
And then how could we pour our tea In an inverted cup ?
Best keep, or so it seems to me, The world the right side up.
-From "Punch"

THERE'S SOMETHING IN MY SHOE.
There's Something in my shoe! Whatever can it be? Whatever shall I do? I felt it moving, too! Suppose it is an - ooh, I'm 
sure it's biting me! There's Something in my shoe - Whatever can it be?
-From "Lambs'-Tails and Suchlike," by JOYCE L. BRISLEY. (Harrap.)

JACK FROST.
Look out! Look out! Jack Frost is about!
He's after our fingers and toes;  And, all through the night,  The gay little sprite
Is working when nobody knows.
He'll climb each tree, So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he'll shake; To windows he'll creep, And while we're asleep,
Such wonderful pictures he'll make.
Across the grass He'll lightly pass,
And change all its greenness to white; Then home he will go, And laugh, " Ho! ho! ho!
What fun I have had in the night."
-CICELY E. PIKE.

GOLLYWOG.
Who was it broke the sewing-machine?
Who was it spilt the ink?
Who was it pushed the plasticine
Down the nursery sink?
Who was it pulled the horse-hair out
From the seat of the best armchair?
Gollywog did it, there isn't a doubt
Nobody else was there.
Who rubbed coal on the mantel-piece?
Who spread jam on the floor?
Who stuffed pellets of candle-grease
In the lock of the bathroom door?
Who put jam in Marmaduke's hat
And butter in Mary's hair?
Gollywog did it, I'm sure of that
Nobody else would dare.
-JAN, in "Punch." (Extract.)
 
THE MAGIC PIPER.
There piped a piper in the wood  Strange music - soft and sweet - And all the little wild things
Came hurrying to his feet.
They sat around him on the grass,
Enchanted, unafraid, And listened as with shining eyes
Sweet melodies he made.
The wood grew green, and flowers sprang up,  The birds began to sing; For the music it was magic,
And the piper's name was - Spring!
-E. L. MARSH.

THE SNAILWAY TRAIN.
A snail who had a way, it seems, Of dreaming very curious dreams, Once dreamed he was - you'll never 
guess!The
engine of a fast express.

TIPPETY-TOES.
Grandfather walks with a gold-headed cane, Twice round the garden and back home again, " Just for a 
turn," and
when Pamela goes
She dances beside him on tippety-toes.
Daddy steps out with a very big stride
Hard for the puppy who pants by his side! Breathless is Pamela, pink as a rose,
Following after on tippety-toes.
Mother has little shoes ever so  neat, "Tap " go the dainty heels all down the
street;
"I couldn't manage with slippers like those," Says Pamela, dancing on tippety-toes.
Timothy clatters with rather a din,
(Everyone knows if he's outside or in!)
Stump along, thump along, follow your nose;
But Pamela dances on tippety-toes.
Old Mr. Snail can do nothing but crawl,
See him set out for the end of the wall!
When he will get there, why, nobody knows
But Pamela dances on tippety-toes.
-RACHEL MACANDREW, in Blackie's Children's Annual.

BABY THRUSH.
I saw him in the garden when I got my spade to dig.
His little breast was speckled, and his mouth was rather big;
His eyes were very round and bright and very puzzled too,
And he had a look about him that was very young and new!
And when a puss came walking by, he didn't move a wing,
But looked just like a speckled stone - the clever little thing.
He gave a  noisy chirrup when the puss had gone inside;
He flapped his funny little wings and didn't try to hide;
For on the wall was Mother Thrush, and when she gave a call,
He gave a happy chirrup as he wobbled to the wall,
And then she filled the baby mouth that looked so very big.
It was so very wonderful, I quite forgot to  dig!
-FLORENCE HOATSON, in "Lavender's Blue." (Harrap.)

THE VISIT.
When I went to Fairyland, visiting the Queen,
I rode upon a peacock, blue and gold and  green;
Silver was the harness, crimson were the reins,
All hung about with little bells that swung on silken chains.
When I went to Fairyland, indeed you cannot think
What pretty things I had to eat, what pretty things to drink.
And did you know that butterflies could sing like little birds!
And did you guess that fairy-talk is not a bit like words?
When I went to Fairyland-of all the lovely things !-
They really taught me how to fly, they gave me fairy wings;
And every night I listen for a tapping on the pane
I want so very much to go to Fairyland again. -ROSE FYLEMAN, in "The Fairy Green."
(Methuen.)

A RIDDLE.
There was an old watchman who said to me,
"And why am I like the moon?"
But I couldn't guess, so he said, said he,
"I'll tell you the answer soon.
I am like the moon that is full and bright
Because -because I look round at night."

GINGERBREAD CAKES.
I can remember When I was small, I didn't like gingerbread Cakes at all. And often when I was out to 
tea, And
someone offered The plate to me, I used to tell them I'd rather not,\
For gingerbread cakes Were much too hot.
 Gingerbread cakes,
 When I was young,
 They made me thirsty
 And burnt my tongue
 And every time that
 I took a bite
 They got more gingery
 Just for spite.
 And that's the reason
 When I was small
 I didn't like gingerbread
Cakes at all.
 -ELIZABETH FLEMING.

IT ISN'T FAIR.
I'd like to go to school and learn As other children do, and have some proper lessons, and a proper teacher, 
too. But I must
learn at home, you see, So my Aunt Muffin teaches me.
"If I had got a sixpence, and I gave you half , "  she said, "How much, inside my pocket, Would be left?" She jerked her
head. " How very slow you seem to be. Come, Tommy, quick! " she said to me.
I said, " Threepence," hurriedly. "You're wrong! " Aunt Muffin smiled. My pocket's got a hole in it -  
The answer's 'Nothing,' child." It isn't fair a bit, you see, The way Aunt Muffin teaches me.
-MARION ST. J. WEBB.

ELIZABETH'S CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.
Elizabeth went shopping, and she bought a ribbon bow
A present for her Mummy, but, of course,  she musn't know;
We only just undid it to make certain it was right,
And Mummy thought it beautiful, and not a bit too bright.
Elizabeth went shopping, and she bought a yellow pen;
A splendid gift, the shopman said, to give  to busy men.
We just let Daddy see it, but he's promised to forget;
He thinks it is the finest pen that he has ever met.
Elizabeth went shopping, and she bought a velvet cat
A. handsome whiskered fellow, and so nice and sleek and fat.
I oughtn't to have seen it, for it's meant for me, I hear;
"It's what I've always longed to have," I whispered in her ear.
Elizabeth went shopping, and she bought a lovely lot;
She simply had to show us what exciting things she'd got!
But, of course, we won't remember, and we'll have such splendid fun
In guessing what Elizabeth has bought for  every one.
-L. G. EADY.

SCARECROW.
Hi, Mister Scarecrow!
Well bless me, Aren't you a funny
Sight to see! Why I know you
Well as can be: Your body is a broomstick
He, he, he! Your gloves once belonged
To Parson's ma! Your hat was the Farmer's
Ha, ha, ha! Your trousers were the Cow-man's,
Your coat used to go With Gaffer Green to market
Ho, ho, ho! Hi, Mister Scarecrow!
 You may be A scare for crows,
But you can't scare me.
-ELEANOR FARJEON.


