The big white ram called to the sheep,
As she happily munched the grass,
‘O exquisite ovine,’ he bleated out loud,
‘You’re my bonny, my black-faced lass.
Your eyes are so large and your wool is so fine
Together how happy we’ll be.
Please say you’ll be mine, you beautiful sheep,
For ewe are the one for me.’
Day Out
At the cinema,
Little Richard
Pushed a piece of popcorn up his nose.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Dad.
‘Why are you wriggling about in your seat?
Sit still and watch the film.’
‘I’ve got a piece of popcorn up my nose,’ sniffed Richard.
‘What!’ cried Dad.
‘Shush!’ said the man behind.
‘Shush!’ said the woman in front.
‘I’ve got a piece of popcorn up my nose,’
whispered Richard.
In the toilets,
Dad asked:
‘How did you manage to get a piece of
popcorn up your nose?’
‘I don’t know,’ snuffled little Richard, ‘I just pushed it up.’
‘You are a very silly boy,’ said Dad.
‘Blow your nose!’
So little Richard blew and blew on
his handkerchief,
But with no success.
Dad poked and probed,
Prodded and pinched,
But the piece of popcorn would not come down.
At the hospital,
Dad told the doctor:
‘He’s got a piece of popcorn up his nose.’
The doctor shook his head and smiled,
And poor, sad Richard, he began to cry.
‘Don’t worry, little man,’ said the doctor gently,
‘I’m very good at popcorn up people’s noses.’
He produced a little torch,
And some long, long, silver tweezers.
‘Head back, eyes closed, keep still,’ he said,
And there, in his hand, was the piece of popcorn.
At home,
Mum asked Dad:
‘Did you both have a nice time?’
‘No!’ snapped Dad.
‘Richard pushed a piece of popcorn up his nose.
We had to go to hospital.’
Mum shook her head and smiled.
‘Are you all right, Richard?’ asked Mum.
‘Fine,’ said Richard, smiling.
‘What happened to the popcorn?’ she asked.
‘Oh that,’ little Richard replied. ‘I ate it.’
A Father’s Advice to His Son
Always smile at those you meet,
And they will do the same.
Look for good in others, son,
And don’t waste time on blame.
Never be ashamed of crying,
It’s not a sign you’re weak.
Don’t be quick to criticize,
And think before you speak.
Give more than you take, my son.
Do no one hurt nor harm.
Don’t be afraid of being wrong,
And always chance your arm.
Stick firmly to your principles,
Don’t follow fads and trends.
And always answer to your heart,
And value all your friends.
Keep that sense of humour,
It will help you to survive,
And don’t take life too seriously, son,
For none comes out alive.
Asking Questions
Have you cleaned your teeth?
Have you washed your neck?
Have you combed your haystack hair?
Have you cleaned your shoes?
Have you washed your hands?
Have you changed your underwear?
Is your homework done?
Is the hamster fed?
Have you put your bike away?
Have you closed the gate?
Have you tidied your room?
Have you read your book today?
My parents sound inquisitive people,
They ask an awful lot of questions.
But they don’t really expect me to answer them,
They just ask!
With Bells On
Now, if you are all looking this way children, I am going to tell you the story of Christmas.
I’ve heard it, Miss.
Yes, I know that you have heard it, Briony, we have all heard it, dear, and we are all going to hear it again.
Why, Miss?
Because we are. It’s a very special story, so special, in fact, that it is well worth repeating. Now, sit up smartly, children, nice straight backs, eyes this way, and we will begin. It was a cold, cold winter night many, many years ago when Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem. Joseph walked ahead, holding up his lamp to light the way.
Didn’t he have a torch, Miss?
No, Kimberley, he didn’t have a torch. There were no torches in those days. Mary was on an old donkey which walked oh so slowly. Clip-clop, clip-clop he went. I think he knew that he was carrying a very precious burden that night.
Miss, we live next door to Mrs Burdon.
This is a different burden, Patrick. This burden was a very heavy weight.
Mrs Burdon s very heavy, Miss. My mum says she’s fat.
Patrick, dear, just listen. This story has nothing to do with Mrs Burdon. As I was saying, Mary was on an old donkey which walked oh so slowly. Clip-clop, clip-clop he went.
Miss, I went on a donkey this year at Blackpool. It ran off along the sands and my dad had to chase it. It kicked my dad and tried to bite him, Miss.
Yes, well, this donkey was a very special donkey, Dean, a very gentle donkey.
Did it have bells on, Miss?
No, it didn’t have bells on.
Didn’t they have bells in those days, Miss?
I’m sure they did have bells, Dean, but this donkey didn’t have any.
The donkey I went on at Blackpool had bells on.
Yes, well, this one didn’t, Dean. Now, Mary knew she was going to have a baby very soon. She had been travelling all day and she felt very very tired.
Miss, my dad was very very tired after he chased the donkey.
Mary was tired because she had been travelling all day and was having a baby.
Miss, my Auntie Brenda felt very very tired when she was having my cousin Oliver. She had swollen ankles and a bad back and, Miss, she was always being sick. She said it was the last baby she was going to have because…
Patrick, just listen, dear. Mary and Joseph had been waiting so long for the arrival of their very special baby.
Nine months!
That’s right, Patrick. My goodness, you do know a lot about babies.
Miss, I know where babies come from as well. My dad told me.
Yes, well, this is not the time nor the place to go into that.
Did she go to the hospital, Miss?
No, she didn’t. There were no hospitals in those days.
Miss, my Auntie Brenda had to go to the hospital.
Well, Mary didn’t. Now just listen, there’s a good boy. My goodness, we will never get through the story with all these interruptions. Joseph looked everywhere for somewhere to stay. He asked at the inn but the innkeeper said that there was no room. There was only the stable where the ox and the ass slept.
Miss, what’s an ass?
It’s a donkey, Briony.
I wouldn’t like to sleep with a donkey, Miss. The one in Blackpool was really smelly and tried to kick my dad and bite his hand.
Dean, this was a very nice donkey in the stable. Soon Mary would have her very special baby and lay him in swaddling clothes in a manger.
The donkeys in Blackpool were mangy, Miss. My dad said.
I said manger, Dean, not mangy. The Angel told Mary not to fear. He brought tidings of grea
t joy, but he told Joseph to take Mary and the baby and flee to Egypt.
Miss, the donkeys in Blackpool had fleas, Miss. My Auntie Christine was scratching the whole holiday and…
I think we will finish the story tomorrow, children. Now, sit up smartly, nice straight backs, eyes this way, and we will wait for the bell.
My Dad Remembers
When I was a lad I walked to school
In pouring rain and freezing sleet,
With satchel crammed with heavy books,
I trekked for miles with aching feet…
But I was happy!
When I was a lad I shared a bed
In a room with bare boards on the floor.
No central heating, double glazing,
We didn’t even have a door…
But I was happy!
When I was a lad I had no toys,
Computers, TVs and the like.
You were thought to be a millionaire
If you owned a football or a bike…
But I was happy!
When I was a lad, food was scarce,
I licked the pattern off the plate.
We never saw an ice-cream cone,
A bag of sweets or chocolate cake…
But I was happy!
When I was a lad, school was strict
And teachers hit you with a cane
Just for speaking out in class.
I never opened my mouth again…
But I was happy!
I remember well that golden age.
The memories make me feel quite sad.
Why, every day was a holiday,
In the good old days when I was a lad!
In the Queue
‘You, boy!’ barked the teacher
to the pupil at the back of the queue.
‘Why are you whistling?’
‘Sir,’ replied the boy, ‘because I’m happy!’
Telling Teacher
Miss, Peter’s pinched my pencil.
Miss, Sally’s in my seat.
Miss, Mandy’s making noises.
Miss, William’s work’s not neat.
Miss, Simon’s being silly.
Miss, Paula’s took my pen.
Miss, Frankie’s pulling faces.
Miss, Leroy’s late again.
Miss, Cheryl-Ann is chewing.
Miss, Patrick’s pulled my hair.
Miss, Elizabeth’s not listening.
Miss, Tamsin’s took my chair.
Miss, Dan’s not done his homework.
Miss, Kevin’s killed a bee.
Miss, Natalie’s being naughty –
And Miss – why will no one play with me ?
Cat and Dog
One bright morning,
The kitten,
Exploring the garden,
Found the dozing dog stretched on the path in the sun.
The cat,
Cautious, curious,
Watched for a while.
Then,
Slowly, silently
(First one paw, then the other)
It padded closer,
Purring softly.
Then
It pounced!
Ah, playful kitten,
You have learnt
Life’s early lessons:
Let sleeping dogs lie,
Once bitten, twice shy.
Conversation with the Parent
May I have a biscuit, Mum?
If you say the magic word.
Abracadabra!
Star Turn
‘You see those men,’ said Uncle Ken,
‘Whose arms stretch past their knees,
Who drag their knuckles across the floor
Like two great chimpanzees?
Well, they’re the stars of the Circus –
The Men on the Flying Trapeze!’
A Word of Warning!
Here’s a word of warning
For every mother’s son
Who thinks that he is quick enough
Across the road to run,
When heavily laden lorries,
And swaying caravans,
Race down the road at rush hour,
With buses, cars and vans,
Who thinks that he can make it
Across the carriageway,
And ignores the zebra crossing
A hundred yards away,
Who thinks that he is quicker
Than a cow in a stampede,
That he can run much faster
Than a motorbike at speed.
Well, here’s word of warning,
For every mother’s son,
Who thinks that he is quick enough
Across the road to run.
DON’T!
Mother Said
My mother said when I asked if I could
have another peach,
‘They don’t grow on trees, you know!’
Brother Said
My brother said: ‘When I was your age I never
behaved as you do!’
He sounds more like my father every day!
As You Were
Soft as fur, hard as iron,
Timid as a mouse, brave as a lion.
Weak as water, strong as an ox,
Round as a ring, square as a box.
Lazy as a lizard, busy as a bee,
High as the mountains, deep as the sea.
Dead as a doornail, live as a wire,
Cold as an iceberg, hot as fire.
Bright as sunshine, dull as a stone,
Wet as a raindrop, dry as a bone.
Heavy as lead, light as a feather,
Smooth as silk, tough as old leather.
Small as an ant, big as a whale,
Fast as a ferret, slow as a snail.
Thin as a beanpole, thick as a rope,
Safe as houses, slippery as soap.
Dark as a mineshaft, clear as light,
Loud as thunder, quiet as the night.
Happy as Dad and happy as Mum,
Happy as me when the holidays come!
Angel in the Cloakroom
Last week, when I was looking for my
PE kit in the cloakroom,
I saw an angel.
She was hovering above the coat
hooks, smiling at me
And waving a long white hand.
Her silver wings were trembling
And her golden halo shimmered in the sun.
This morning she was there again,
Smiling and shimmering,
Flapping and fluttering,
Waving and trembling.
She looked beautiful.
I told my teacher.
‘Miss, there’s an angel in the cloakroom.’
My teacher gave a little snort. ‘An angel?’
She looked around the cloakroom but the
angel had gone.
‘Too much television,’ she sighed.
‘Too lively an imagination.
A daydreamer, that’s what you are.
Angels indeed. Whatever next?’
She smiled and shook her head,
And then picked up a shining feather
from the floor
And put it in the bin.
Becky’s Tree
When Becky died, we planted a tree
At the front of the school.
A small, straight sapling it was,
Thin as a stick with delicate branches,
And a pale, smooth bark.
It looked so sad and bare
That cold, dark autumn day,
When we said a prayer and cried.
It reminded us of Becky
When she became ill:
Lean and white and tired-looking.
In winter the little tree looked dead,
Standing stiff and lifeless in the snow.
But in the spring the slender branches
Burst with fat green buds
And then with glistening leaves.
On one sunny mo
rning we left our books
And stared in silence from the classroom window
At Becky’s tree, draped in silver blossom.
It was so beautiful. We cried
And we remembered Becky.
Up the Stairs
‘Who is that shouting at the top of the stairs?’
Shouted the teacher.
‘Who is that shouting at the bottom of the stairs?’
Came a pupil’s reply.
Dreaming
In the corner of the classroom,
A small child stared at the stuffed hedgehog
In the glass case.
‘What are you thinking of?’ asked the school inspector.
‘I was just wondering,’ the child replied wistfully,
‘What it was doing… before it was stuffed!’
Spelling
The inspector asked the little ones,
‘Can anyone tell me,
A word that begins with the letter ‘Q’?’
And a child said, ‘Quistmas twee!’
The Song of the School Inspector
What shall we do with the school inspector?
What shall we do with the school inspector?
What shall we do with the school inspector?
Early in the morning.
Stand him by the gate when the school bell’s ringing,
Stand him by the gate when the school bell’s ringing,
Stand him by the gate when the school bell’s ringing,
Early in the morning.
Oh, see the teachers rushing,
Oh, feel the pupils pushing,
Oh dear! The queues are crushing,
Early in the morning.
What shall we do with the school inspector?
What shall we do with the school inspector?
What shall we do with the school inspector?
Early in the morning.
Sit him on the stage in the school assembly,
Sit him on the stage in the school assembly,
Sit him on the stage in the school assembly,
The Day Our Teacher Went Batty Page 3
