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Father
Out in the morning Father goes,
Whether it pours with rain or snows,
Whether the wild wind beats and blows:
By the fire sit Mother and I
Doing our lessons quietly.
Back in the twilight Father comes,
When I've finished with books and sums.
Not all the noise of all the drums
Is a jollier noise, I know,
Than Father when he says, "Hello!"
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The Foot Book
Left foot Left foot Right foot Right
Feet in the morning feet at night
Wet foot dry foot low foot high foot
Front feet back feet red feet black feet
Left foot right foot feet feet feet
How many many feet you meet.
Slow feet quick feet trick feet sick feet
Up feet down feet here come clown feet
His feet her feet fuzzy fur feet
In the house and on the street
How many many feet you meet.
Up in the air feet over a chair feet
More and more feet twenty four feet
Left foot right right foot Feet Feet Feet
Oh how many feet you meet
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Fiddle Dee Dee
Fiddle dee dee, fiddle dee dee,
The fly has married the bumblebee.
Said the fly, said he,
"Will you marry me and live with me sweet bumble bee?"
Fiddle dee dee, fiddle dee dee,
The fly has married the bumblebee.
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A Fly
Come and see this busy fly
Rub his skinny hands together,
Now he stops and wonders whether
He feels clean again and dry.
Is it to the left or right,
The way back to the window-pane?
He thinks he'll go and dance again,
He feels so tidied up and bright!
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For Want Of A Nail
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost:
For want of the shoe, the horse was lost;
For want of the horse, the rider was lost;
For want of the rider, the battle was lost;
For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a nail.
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From Wishing Land
Robert Louis Stevenson
Dear Lady, tapping at your door,
Some little verses stand,
And beg on this auspicious day
To come and kiss your hand.
Their syllables all counted right
Their rhymes each in its place,
Like birthday children, at the door
They wait to see your face.
Rise, lady, rise and let them in;
Fresh from the fairy shore,
They bring you things you wish to have,
Each in its pinafore.
For they have been to Wishing land
This morning in the dew,
And all your dearest wishes bring --
All granted -- home to you.
What these may be, they would not tell,
And could not if they would;
They take the packets sealed to you
As trusty servants should.
But there was one that looked like love,
And one that smelt like health,
And one that had a jingling sound --
I fancy it might be wealth.
Ah, well, they are but wishes still;
But, lady dear, for you
I know that all you wish is kind,
I pray it all come true.
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1755
© copyright The Lord's Rain.
All rights reserved.
Graphics by: moody motifs
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