(Click title to view) (Click left arrow in toolbar to return to Home Page)
* BOOKS
*
BUSY LISA *
A FUNNY THING
*
HELEN'S BAY
*
HIDING
*
LOOKING AFTER
GRANDAD *
LOUD OR QUIET?
*
MATTHEW'S BICYCLE
* NANNIES
*
NAUGHTY DOLLIES
*
NURSERY SCHOOL
*
TOY SOLDIERS
*
TUDDLES
* TUNNELS
My Grandad sits in his armchair
And I sit on his knee.
I've got out my best picture-book
For him to read with me.
At first he holds it upside-down
And opens it to look
At all the pictures, then he says,
"Oh! What a silly book!
"The silly man who made this book
Has made a big mistake!
The baby's plate is upside-down,
And she will drop her cake!
"The doggy there is upside-down!
How strange he will be feeling,
To find, when he is walking,
That he's walking on the ceiling!"
"No, Grandad dear," I say to him,
"It's you that's wrong, you know.
You must turn the book right round,
The way it's meant to go."
So Grandad laughs, and turns it round
To make it right and nice,
But, when I look, I find that he
Has turned the book round twice!
"Oh dear!" he says, "Just look at this!
It still is not quite right.
This bird is flying upside-down.
Oh! What a funny sight!
"The trees in this big garden
All hang down from the sky!
The house is standing on its roof, -
The door is much too high!"
I see he'll never get it right,
If he should try all day.
I say, "Excuse me, Grandad,
Let me turn it the right way."
He says, "This book has been made wrong
By a very silly man."
"You cannot make it right," he says.
I say, "Oh yes I can!"
I take the book and turn it round
Just once, as right as rain,
And hold it tight my side, so he
Can't turn it round again.
"Ah! That's much better," Grandad says,
"I see you're very clever.
I see now that the book is printed
Properly. Well, I never!
"Now here's a pretty picture
Of a house, and garden too.
I wonder, can you find the things
That I call out to you?
"Where is the gate? Where is the path?
Where is the apple tree?
Where is the door, and where's the hole
Where Daddy puts his key?"
I quickly point to all the things
As he tells me their names,
And when he sees I know them all,
He starts to play more games.
"And where's the elephant," he says,
"Eating a currant bun?"
I look at him, and say, "Grandad!
You know there isn't one."
Before he thinks up any more
I quickly turn the page,
And there's a very cheeky monkey
Sitting in his cage.
"There's the monkey's tail," he says,
Pointing to its nose.
"No, it's not his tail," I tell him.
"Everybody knows,
"A monkey's tail's not on his face.
You're pointing to his nose.
His tail goes on the other end; look,
That is where it goes."
He says the monkey's ball is red,
But I say, "No, it's blue."
He says all sorts of funny things
Which I know are not true.
Perhaps he really wants to see
If he can catch me out.
I have to be so wide-awake
When Grandad is about.
I have to look most carefully
And listen carefully, too.
I have to think, and notice
What is right and what is true.
One day iIsaid to Nanny,
In the kitchen, after tea,
"Grandad must be a worry to you,
Nanny." "Oh!" said she.
"In what way, lovely?" "Well, I said,
"He's so silly, isn't he?"
Nanny laughed, and said, "Well, dear,
Sometimes, yes, I agree."
(Click to return to list of poems)
"Let me give you a kiss," says Grandad,
"Because I love you so.
Tell me now what kind you'd like,
Just so that I will know.
"Would you like a very loud
And noisy kiss, my dear?
Or would you like a very quiet
Kiss no-one can hear?"
Now if I say, "A quiet kiss, please,"
He plants upon my cheek
A very very noisy kiss, -
A loud, long-drawn-out squeak!
But if I say to him, "I think
I'd like a loud kiss, please",
He gives me just a very tiny
Kiss. He is a tease!
Then I ask him the kind of kiss
That he would like from me.
If he says, "Loud," I kiss him
Just as quietly as can be.
"Goodness me!" he says, "That was
A loud one, I must say.
I think they must have heard that kiss
Quite fifteen miles away.
"Listen! All the dogs are barking!
Lights are switching on!
Neighbours are all running out
To find out what is wrong!
"I think," he says, "I'd better ask you
For a quiet kiss, -
The sort that, if one didn't listen
Carefully, one would miss."
Then I give him a great big kiss,
As loud as loud can be, -
But Grandad sits quite still, as if
He hasn't noticed me.
"I'm waiting for my kiss," he says,
"A quiet one, you know."
I say, "You've had it." He says, "Oh?
I'm glad you told me so.
"It must have been so very quiet,
So dainty and so small,
I really didn't notice that
I'd had a kiss at all.
I look my Grandad in the eye.
A twinkle there I see;
And then we laugh together,
And I take him in to tea.
(Click to return to list of poems)
My dollies all sleep in my bed,
And they are very good.
They keep me company at night,
As all good dollies should.
They all keep very still and quiet
When I begin my prayers,
And while I'm saying mine, I know
That they are saying theirs.
They do not snore, nor fidget
To disturb me in my sleep,
And Daddy's very pleased with them
When he comes in to peep.
When morning comes, we all wake up
To start our busy day,
And if it's not a school-day, they say,
"Now, what shall we play?"
I play a game or two with them,
Until I think it's best,
(To stop them getting over-tired)
For them to have a rest;
And then I say, "Now, off to bed!"
And they do as they're told,
And later on, when I look in,
They're lying gold as gold.
And yet, you know (it's very strange!)
When Grandad comes to stay,
Or when we're staying at his house,
I am ashamed to say
That they are often naughty;
I am sure I don't know why.
They play all sorts of silly tricks!
It really makes me sigh.
I find one upside-down in bed,
Her head beneath the sheet;
And on the pillow, to be sure,
I find her little feet!
I find one standing in my drawer,
Just poking out her head;
One climbing up the curtains
Of the window near my bed!
I speak quite crossly to them,
And I tell them I am sad
Because, although they're usually good,
They are, sometimes, so bad.
One day, I saw one dolly,
And, I really don't know why, -
I thought she looked at Grandad
With a twinkle in her eye.
(Click to return to list of poems)
NANNIES
A poem for Claire and Joanna
We have two lovely Nannies
Who both live by the sea.
We love to go and stay with them
Or visit them for tea.
When we were very little girls,
At Ashford, down in Kent,
We had to find a way to say
Which one of them we meant.
One Nanny has a Scottie dog,
And 'Angus' is his name,
So that was very simple -
'Nanny Angus' she became.
The other Nanny has no dog,
But there's a railway track
Runs past the garden of her house
To Eastbourne Town and back.
We like to see it rushing past
And coming back again,
So now you know the reason why
We call her 'Nanny Train'.
(Click to return to list of poems)
My Grandad does a funny thing.
Perhaps I shouldn't tell;
But if you promise not to laugh,
Perhaps I'll tell you. Well,
He puts his index-finger
On the tip-end of his nose,
And when he presses lightly,
Why, of course, then in it goes.
In case you may be thinking
That's not much to write about,
Well, every time he presses it,
His tongue comes poking out!
Then, with his finger and his thumb
He pulls on his left ear,
And what do you think happens next?
I'll try to make it clear.
His tongue slides slowly over
Till it's on the left-hand side!
One push upon his nose, -
Back to the centre see it glide!
Now when he pulls his right ear,
Then his tongue goes to the right;
And to and fro he makes it go;
A most unusual sight!
Between his finger and thumb, he takes
A little pinch of skin
Under his chin, and pulls it,
And his tongue pops quickly in!
And then he presses my nose,
And my tongue comes popping out,
And then, by pulling both my ears,
He moves it all about.
I'm sure that if you try it
You'll find you can do it too;
But please do not tell anyone
What I have just told you;
And if you mean to try it, choose
The time and place just right,
For some folk think, to shew your tongue
Is rather impolite.
(Click to return to list of poems)
When we go down to Bexhill Town
To Nanny's house again,
We always go out for a walk,
Unless there's heavy rain.
We look at all the houses
And the gardens that are there.
We hold hands as we go along
And cross the roads with care.
There's always four of five of us
All busy with our chat.
We look around at everything,
And talk of this and that;
And sometimes we are looking here,
And pointing over there,
And all at once we find
We can't see Grandad anywhere!
"Wherever has he gone?," we ask,
"Wherever can he be?
We can't get in without him,
For he has the front-door key."
And just as we are worrying
And wondering what to do,
We pass a great big oak-tree,
And we hear him shout out, "Boo!"
He's just been hiding from us all,
To play a little game.
I think, if he can do it, well,
Then I can do the same.
I walk a little faster
Till I reach an open gate.
I know they haven't seen me,
So I bob down there and wait.
I hear them all say, "Where is Claire?
Wherever can she be?
We've simply got to find her,
Or she won't have any tea."
I stay there very quiet and still,
And watch them all pass by.
They really can't think where I am,
And I hear Daddy sigh.
Then I jump out behind them,
And I shout with all my might.
I shout out, "Boo!" They are surprised.
I give them all a fright.
They laugh because they are so glad
To see me once again,
And off we go together,
Hand-in-hand along the lane
(Click to return to list of poems)
My Claire Jane lives at Helen's Bay,
In lovely County Down,
Not far from Belfast City, and
Not far from Bangor Town.
She lives there with her Mummy,
And with her Daddy, too,
And with her little sister, called
Joanna, who is two,
And very nearly new.
Claire Jane herself is five years old
And goes to school nearby,
And very smart indeed she looks
In jumper, skirt, and tie;
And when I go to Ireland,
I go by aeroplane,
And when I get to Aldergrove
And step on land again,
I'm met by my Claire Jane.
Then with my cases in the car
I look out at the views,
And my Claire Jane sits next to me
And tells me all her news.
We drive home to the bungalow
And see her dolls and toys.
I ask Red Ted, and Peter,
If they have been good boys;
And don't they make a noise!
When I am there at Helen's Bay
We like to go for walks,
And that's the time for Claire and me
To have our little talks.
She likes to take me round the lanes
To Helen's Bay Shell Beach,
Where all the sand is made of shells
As far as eye can reach,
And has such things to teach!
We walk along and shade our eyes
To spy the ships at sea.
The small footprints are made by Claire,
The big ones, made by me.
We see whose boots have bars across,
Who walks on squiggly soles;
Whose heels leave O's, and whose leave U's,
And whose dig deep sharp holes
Where soon the high tide rolls.
And other tracks we follow,
Of buggy-wheels, and dogs,
Amongst the shells and sea-weed,
Past rocks and brackish logs.
We know which dogs have lightly walked,
And which have run, of course,
And sometimes there we see the curvy
Hoof-prints of a horse,
Deep-dug with heavy force.
We know one dog has run along
And then run back again.
If you know how to read the sand,
The signs are very plain.
We see a can, an orange-peel,
A broken plastic plate;
A piece of silver paper, from
A bar of chocolate;
A crab, that will not wait.
Then Claire and I will find a stick
And play a little game,
And in the sand we draw a face,
And then we write her name.
Sometimes she takes me right along
The beach, to Crawfordsburn,
To see the little stream come down
With many a twist and turn,
All edged with flower and fern.
We cross the little bridges and
We rattle on the planks,
And look between the rails, to see
The weedy concrete banks.
We climb the path up to the road.
Claire knows which way to take.
We think it must be tea-time,
And we'll have banana-cake.
It's Mummy's special make.
The days skip by, and all too soon
I have to say "Goodbye";
And Claire will come to see me off, -
To Sussex I must fly;
And when I'm back in Bexhill Town,
Four hundred miles away,
I'll often think, especially when
The Sussex skies are grey,
Of Claire, at Helen's Bay.
(Click to return to list of poems)
At finding his way home,
My grandad isn't very good.
If he were on his own, I sometimes
Think he never would.
I take him for a walk, and when
It's time for going back,
He cannot seem to find the way.
He hasn't got the knack.
At every road we come to,
He says, "Now, we turn down here,"
And off he goes, till I say, "No,
We do not, Grandad dear"
I hold his hand, and try to keep him
On the proper track,
And, but for me, I think he'd never
Find his own way back.
When at last we reach our road,
And haven't far to go,
He says, "Now, let's cross over here;
Is that right?" I say, "No".
"We're on the right side now," I say.
"Oh, good!" he says, "That's great!"
And stops outside the next house,
And walks straight in through the gate!
"Home at last!" says Grandad. I say,
"Wrong house! Can't you tell?"
And quickly pull him out again,
Before he rings the bell.
He then tries other houses,
But I lead him firmly past,
And wonder what will happen when
We do reach home at last.
"Look at that dog," he says, and walks
Straight on, right past the gate.
I know I should have held his hand.
I say, "No, Grandad, wait!
"It's this house!" "Really, Claire?" he says,
"Why, bless me, you are right!
It must be nearly tea-time;
Let's go in and have a bite."
(Click to return to list of poems)
When she wakes up in the morning,
And opens her eyes on the day,
Before she gets dressed and has breakfast,
Or looks for a nice game to play,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
When she is busy with something,
Or running off somewhere to see,
And something goes BUMP!, and hurts her head,
Or her arm, or her foot ,or her knee,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
When Daddy comes home from work,
Or Nanny comes over to tea,
Or when she can't think what to do,
But she can climb on somebody's knee,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
When she wakes up in the night
With a nasty old dream in her head,
And doesn't know quite where she is,
And cannot find Teddy in bed,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
When she is feeling uncomfy,
With a cough ,or a cold ,or an ache,
And the doctor says, "Stay in the warm, dear,
And here is some medicine to take",
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
When she has been very good,
And people have nice things to say;
When she has cleared the tea-table,
Or tidied her toys all away,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a tuddle,
Joanna likes a TUDDLE.
(So do I)
(Click to return to list of poems)
Matthew has a bicycle
With yellow handle-bars.
It has a yellow saddle too,
And great big tyres of brightest blue.
The tubes are red, and forks as well,
And, so that everyone can tell
That Matthew pedals very fast,
In front there is a figure One,
To show that, when the race is done,
Matthew will be the first one past
The winning-post.
Matthew has a pair of legs
So very very strong,
That when he pedals down the street,
The people cannot see his feet, -
They fly around at such a rate.
I'm sure that he will not be late
Arriving where he wants to be.
The wind just whistles through his hair,
And everybody turns to stare,
And says to him, "My goodness me!
You do ride fast!"
Although he's such a speedy lad,
He takes the greatest care
To cycle safely through the streets,
And not to trouble folk he meets
By whizzing past them much too near
Or causing them the slightest fear;
And when it's time to cross the road,
He waits till Mummy comes, to say
It's safe to cross, and leads the way,
With Stephen and her shopping-load,
And home they go.
(Click to return to list of poems)
When we have had a lovely meal
With Nanny at Bexhill,
She says, "Who'll help to clear away?"
And we both say, "We will!"
And through the kitchen hatch we put
Each plate and bowl and cup.
Each knife and fork and spoon goes through
For someone to wash up.
When everything that goes has gone,
At last the table's clear,
And Grandad takes the cloth right off,
And says, "You two, stand here,
Just by the door, Lisa and Mark,
And keep out of my way
While I fold up the table-cloth,
Ready to put away."
He takes the cloth in both his hands,
And finds the place to hold,
Just in the middle of each end,
Where nanny's ironed a fold;
And with his arms stretched fully out,
The sides hang down quite straight,
And so they make a tunnel, and
We naughty pair don't wait.
We bob our heads down, and we run
Straight through that tunnel dark!
And he lifts up the cloth, and says,
"Where's Lisa? Where is Mark?"
He looks towards the door, where he
Had told us both to stand,
And says, "I don't know where they've gone;
I cannot understand!"
And all the time we're standing
By the window, and we laugh,
And he pretends to be quite cross,
And folds the cloth in half,
And says, "I told you both to stand
Just here, just by the door!
Now, stand there by the window;
Don't be naughty any more!"
He holds it by the next fold, and
Again the sides hang straight;
And when we see the tunnel,
Once again we do not wait.
He does not see us bobbing down
And running quickly through.
He looks towards the window, and says
"Now where are those two?
"I left them standing over there.
Wherever have they gone?"
But we are standing by the door,
And so the game goes on.
Five times he folds the cloth again,
And, every time, we run,
And he looks in the wrong place,
And can't find us. It is fun.
At last the cloth's all folded up
And put in Nanny's drawer,
And so, of course we really can't
Play that game any more.
We go into the other room,
And Grandad says, "Let's see, -
Has anybody got a nice big
Book to read with me?"
(Click to return to list of poems)
When Grandad plays the organ for us,
That's a special treat.
He lets us sit up high with him
Upon the organ-seat.
"Now, Joanna, dear," he says,
"We'll sit you on this side,
And on the other, Claire can sit,
Because it's nice and wide;
"And I'll sit in the middle,
So that I can reach the keys
And play the pedals with my feet,
But watch out for my knees!
"Let's all pretend we're in the street
One sunny Saturday.
Now, what's that little sound we hear
So very far away?
I think it's those toy soldiers coming,
Playing as they go;
Stepping smartly to the music,
Marching, row by row."
Faintly, in the distance then,
We hear the tubas play,
'Oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah
Oom!' they seem to say.
Next we hear the trumpets,
Then the drummers joining in,
Getting closer now, and making
Such a merry din!
We hear the first tune through, and then
A new tune follows that.
They march with slow and steady tread,
For most of them are fat.
The flutes and horns all take their turn, -
It's getting very loud, -
The playing of the soldiers, and
The cheering of the crowd.
One of their young soldiers
Has been waiting all this time
To play the tune upon his bells,
And now we hear them chime.
At last the music's finished, and
They stand still in their ranks
Outside the Town Hall, where the Mayor
Will make his speech of thanks.
And what do you think happens next
In make-believe Toy Town?
The soldier at the end gets pushed,
And so, THEY ALL FALL DOWN!
(Click to return to list of poems)
On Mondays and on Wednesdays
Susan goes to Nursery-School
From breakfast-time to dinner-time,
But Fridays, as a rule,
She stays there until tea-time,
And she has her dinner there.
There's lots of lovely things to do,
And lots of games to share.
On school days, after breakfast,
Susan has a lot to do.
Her slippers, wellies, hanky,
And her cuddly rabbit too,
She packs into her yellow bag
And zips the zip up tight.
She puts her trainers on, and sees
That everything's all right.
She climbs into the car, and then
We turn and wave 'Goodbye'.
We drive off up the road, and see
The other cars go by.
We turn right at the traffic-lights,
When they shew green for 'GO',
Then left, down to the Motorway,
To join the traffic-flow.
Now, with great big vans and trucks
We fairly speed along,
And Susan thinks it's time for us
To sing a little song.
We think it might be rather fun
To sing a nursery-rhyme.
Susan lets me choose one first.
It helps to pass the time.
I'm not sure of the words, but still,
I try to get it right.
I hope I do not make mistakes,
Though I'm afraid I might.
'Hey diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the rocks;
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with my socks.'
"Grandad! That's not right!" she says -
"The cow jumped over the MOON!
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the SPOON!"
I say ,"I'm very sorry;
I must have another try,"
But then I get it wrong again,
I really don't know why.
'Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the dirt;
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with my shirt.'
'Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the houses;
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with my trousis.'
Susan thinks I'm very silly,
Getting it all wrong, -
Putting in a lot of words
That really don't belong.
She sings it to me properly;
I promise I will try,
But now it's time to stop the game,
And I will tell you why.
The Motorway is at an end,
So we must slow right down.
We drive around a great big bend,
And come into the town.
We turn left, right, and left again,
And soon the School's in sight.
We're not too early, nor too late;
We've come along just right.
We leave the car and walk along
The pathway at the side.
We turn the handle of the door,
And then we step inside.
Susan's name is on her peg,
Just underneath the stairs.
She leaves her trainers there
And gets out slippers that she wears.
She hangs her bag up on the peg,
And takes me down to see
The classroom, where the aunties smile
And say 'Hello' to me.
It's time for me to go, and Susan
Kisses me 'Goodbye'.
I walk back past the window,
And she waves as I pass by.
I have no-one to talk to
As I drive back home alone.
There isn't any fun in singing
When you're on your own.
I wonder what she's doing;
I expect she's having fun;
Hearing stories, painting pictures,
Playing games with everyone.
After School, it's time to go
And bring her home again.
She says she's had a busy day;
I ask her to explain.
She tells me everything she's done,
And chats away to me;
And soon we're back in Ripley Road,
And sitting down to tea.
(Click to return to list of poems)
Lisa Louise is always busy,
Never bored and seldom still, -
Always drawing. painting, making -
Busy Lisa Louise Hill.
In she comes, and straight away
Out come paper, pens and pencils,
Scissors, Selotape and felt-tips,
Card, and paper-clips and stencils.
Patterns, pictures, cards of greeting,
Boxes, models, useful trays.
Never liking to be idle,
Lisa Louise fills her days.
The nicest part of all this is,
That what she makes, she gives away.
She thinks about the folk she loves,
And this is what her gifts convey.
Lisa Louise is always busy,
Never bored and seldom still, -
Always drawing. painting, making -
Busy Lisa Louise Hill.
(Click to return to list of poems)