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random poetry for children kids poems

Can't make up you mind whether you want a funny or sad - long or short - pink or violet poem? Here are a few from our vast poetry collection.



Collection : Poems for Children - 325

 

The Pobble Who Has No Toes by Edward Lear

The Pobble who has no toes
Had once as many as we;
When they said 'Some day you may lose them all;'
He replied 'Fish, fiddle-de-dee!'
And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink
Lavender water tinged with pink,
For she said 'The World in general knows
There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!'

The Pobble who has no toes
Swam across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped his nose
In a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said 'No harm
Can come to his toes if his nose is warm;
And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes
Are safe, -- provided he minds his nose!'

The Pobble swam fast and well,
And when boats or ships came near him,
He tinkledy-blinkledy-winkled a bell,
So that all the world could hear him.
And all the Sailors and Admirals cried,
When they saw him nearing the further side -
'He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's
Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!'

But before he touched the shore,
The shore of the Bristol Channel,
A sea-green porpoise carried away
His wrapper of scarlet flannel.
And when he came to observe his feet,
Formerly garnished with toes so neat,
His face at once became forlorn,
On perceiving that all his toes were gone!

And nobody ever knew,
From that dark day to the present,
Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes,
In a manner so far from pleasant.
Whether the shrimps, or crawfish grey,
Or crafty Mermaids stole them away -
Nobody knew: and nobody knows
How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes!

The Pobble who has no toes
Was placed in a friendly Bark,
And they rowed him back, and carried him up
To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
And she made him a feast at his earnest wish
Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish, -
And she said 'It's a fact the whole world knows,
That Pobbles are happier without their toes!'





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Incidents in the Life of my Uncle Arly by Edward Lear

From The Complete Nonsense Book,
edited by Lady Strachey, 1912

O! My aged Uncle Arly!
Sitting on a heap of Barley
Thro' the silent hours of night,--
Close beside a leafy thicket:--
On his nose there was a Cricket,--
In his hat a Railway-Ticket;--
(But his shoes were far too tight.)


II

Long ago, in youth, he squander'd
All his goods away, and wander'd
To the Tiniskoop-hills afar.
There on golden sunsets blazing,
Every morning found him gazing,--
Singing -- 'Orb! you're quite amazing!
How I wonder what you are!'




III

Like the ancient Medes and Persians,
Always by his own exertions
He subsisted on those hills;--
Whiles, -- by teaching children spelling,--
Or at times by merely yelling,--
Or at intervals by selling
'Propter's Nicodemus Pills.'



IV

Later, in his morning rambles
He perceived the moving brambles--
Something square and white disclose;--
'Twas a First-class Railway Ticket;
But, on stooping down to pick it
Off the ground, -- a pea-green Cricket
settled on my uncle's Nose.



V

Never -- never more, -- Oh! never,
Did that Cricket leave him ever,--
Dawn or evening, day or night;--
Clinging as a constant treasure,--
Chirping with a cheerious measure,--
Wholly to my uncle's pleasure
(Though his shoes were far too tight.)



VI

So for three-and-forty winters,
Till his shoes were worn to splinters,
All those hills he wander'd o'er,--
Sometimes silent; -- sometimes yelling;--
Till he came to Borley-Melling,
Near his old ancestral dwelling;--
(But his shoes were far too tight.)



VII

On a little heap of Barley
Died my aged uncle Arly,
And they buried him one night;--
Close beside the leafy thicket;--
There, -- his hat and Railway-Ticket;--
There, -- his ever-faithful Cricket;--
(But his shoes were far too tight.)






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Polly, put the kettle on by Anonymous

Polly, put the kettle on,
Polly, put the kettle on,
Polly, put the kettle on,
We'll all have tea.


Sukey, take it off again,
Sukey, take it off again,
Sukey, take it off again,
They've all gone away.


= = = = = = = = = =



O Nightingale that on yon bloomy Spray by John Milton

O Nightingale that on yon bloomy Spray,
Warbl'st at eve, when all the Woods are still
Thou with fresh hope the Lover's heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May,
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day,
First heard before the shallow Cuckoo's bill
Portend success in love; O if Jove's will
Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate
Foretell my hopeless doom in some Grove nigh:
As thou from year to year hath sung too late
For my relief; yet hadst no reason why,
Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

O Nightingale that on yon bloomy Spray
by John Milton




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Times Table by Stuart Macfarlane

Times Table
Two ones ur two,
Two twos ur four,
Don’t fancy Jenny any more,
Two threes ur six,
Two fours ur eight,
Think Ah’ll ask Mary fur a date,
Two fives ur ten,
Two sixes ur twelve,
Two sevens ur fourteen,
She looks jist like a beauty queen,
Two eights ur sixteen,
Two nines ur eighteen,
Wae hair o’ brown and eyes o’ green,
Two tens ur twenty,
Two elevens ur twenty-two,
Ah’ll ask here wance this lesson’s through,
Two twelves ur twenty-four,


Three ones ur three,
Three twos ur six,
Ah’ll maybe ask her oot tae ra pics,
Three threes ur nine,
Three fours ur twelve,
Three fives ur fifteen,
Three sixes ur eighteen,
Mustnae let her think thit Ah’m too keen,
Three sevens ur twenty-one,
Three eights ur twenty-four,
Even though she’s the one thit Ah adore,
Three nines ur twenty-seven,
Three tens ur thirty,
Three elevens ur thirty-three,
Wow, she’s whispering tae her friend about me,
Three twelves ur thirty-six,


Four ones ur four,
Four twos ur eight,
They’re bloody well laughing aboot ma weight,
Four threes ur twelve,
Four fours ur sixteen,
Four fives ur twenty,
Four sixes ur twenty-four,
Don’t think Ah like her any more,
Four sevens ur twenty-six,
Four eights ur thirty-one,
Four nines ur thirty-seven,
Hey Miss, Ah need tae go tae the lavvie.
(Copyright Stuart Macfarlane)  




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