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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 - 704

 

Wee Joukydaidles by J Smith

Wee Joukydaidles,
Toddlin' out an' in :
Oh but she's a cuttie,
Makin' a sair din !
Aye sae fou' o' mischief,
An' minds na what I say :
My verra heart gangs loup, loup,
Fifty times a-day !

Wee Joukydaidles -
Where's the stumpie noo ?
She's peepin' thro' the cruivie,
An' lauchin' to the soo !
Noo she sees my angry e'e,
An' aff she's like a hare !
Lassie, when I get ye,
I'll scud ye till I'm sair !

Wee Joukydaidles -
Noo she's breakin' dishes -
Noo she's soakit i' the burn,
Catchin' little fishes -
Noo she's i' the barn-yard,
Playin' wi' the fouls ;
Feedin' them wi' butter-bakes,
Snaps, an' sugar-bools.

Wee Joukydaidles -
Oh, my heart it's broke !
She's torn my braw new wincey
To mak' a dolly's frock -
There's the goblet owre the fire !
The jaud ! she weel may rin !
No a tattie ready yet,
An' faither comin' in !

Wee Joukydaidles -
Where's the smoukie noo !
She's hidin' i' the coal-hole
Cryin' 'Keekyboo !' -
Noo she's at the fireside,
Pu'in' pussy's tail -
Noo she's at the broun bowl,
Suppin' a' the kail !

Wee Joukydaidles -
Paidlin' i' the shower -
There she's at the windy !
Haud her, or she's owre !
Noo she's slippit frae my sicht :
Where's the wean at last ?
In the byre amang the kye,
Sleepin', soun' an' fast.


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Two Children by Spike Milligan

Two children (small), one Four, one Five,
Once saw a bee go in a hive,
They'd never seen a bee before!
So waited there to see some more.
And sure enough along they came
A dozen bees (and all the same!)
Within the hive they buzzed about;
Then, one by one, they all flew out.
Said Four: 'Those bees are silly things,
But how I wish I had their wings!'


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Birthday Wish by Stuart Macfarlane

I met a nice fairy,
On the way home from school,
She granted me a wish,
She knew I was no fool.

I said weekly birthdays,
Would really be great,
For fifty two weeks,
Is too long to wait.

Now presents and presents,
Each week do arrive,
We’ve bought a bigger house,
In fact we bought five,

But the gifts keep on coming,
And there’s no room to store,
At first they were fun,
But now they’re a bore.

But horror of horrors,
Is the effect upon me,
For I’ve outgrown my parents,
I’m now two hundred and three.
(Copyright Stuart Macfarlane)



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There was an Old Man, on whose nose by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man, on whose nose,
Most birds of the air could repose;
But they all flew away,
At the closing of day,
Which relieved that Old Man and his nose.



= = = = = = = = = =



A Wolf Is at the Laundromat by Jack Prelutsky

A wolf is at the Laundromat,
it's not a wary stare-wolf,
it's short and fat, it tips its hat,
unlike a scary glare-wolf.


It combs its hair, it clips its toes,
it is a fairly rare wolf,
that's only there to clean its clothes—
it is a wash-and-wear-wolf.



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