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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 - 1607

 

Knight's Song by Lewis Carroll

I'LL tell thee everything I can:
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.

'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head,
Like water through a sieve.
He said, 'I look for butterflies
That sleep among the wheat:
I make them into mutton-pies,
And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men,' he said,
'Who sail on stormy seas;
And that's the way I get my bread --
A trifle, if you please.'
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one's whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.

So having no reply to give
To what the old man said, I cried
'Come, tell me how you live!'
nd thumped him on the head.
is accents mild took up the tale:

He said 'I go my ways,
And when I find a mountain-rill,
I set it in a blaze;
And thence they make a stuff they call
Rowland's Macassar-Oil --
Yet twopence-halfpenny is all
They give me for my toil.'

But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day '
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried,
'And what it is you do!'

He said, 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
Or set limed twigs for crabs:
I sometimes search the grassy knolls
For wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'By which I get my wealth --
And very gladly will I drink
Your Honour's noble health.'

I heard him then, for I had just
Completed my design
To keep the Menai bridge from rust
By boiling it in wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
The way he got his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know --
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo-
That summer evening long ago,
A-sitting on a gate


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The three little kittens, they lost their mittens by Anonymous

The three little kittens, they lost their mittens,
And they began to cry,
'Oh, mother dear, we sadly fear,
That we have lost our mittens.'
'What! Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.'
'Meow, meow, meow.'
'Then you shall have no pie.'


The three little kittens, they found their mittens,
And they began to cry,
'Oh, mother dear, see here, see here,
For we have found our mittens.'
'Put on your mittens, you silly kittens,
And you shall have some pie.'
'Purr, purr, purr,
Oh, let us have some pie.'


The three little kittens put on their mittens,
And soon ate up the pie,
'Oh, mother dear, we greatly fear,
That we have soiled our mittens.'
'What, soiled your mittens, you naughty kittens!'
Then they began to sigh,
'Meow, meow, meow,'
Then they began to sigh.


The three little kittens, they washed their mittens,
And hung them out to dry,
'Oh, mother dear, do you not hear,
That we have washed our mittens?'
'What, washed your mittens, then you're good kittens,
But I smell a rat close by.'
'Meow, meow, meow,
We smell a rat close by.'


= = = = = = = = = =



The Last Laugh by Betjeman Concordance

I made hay while the sun shone.
My work sold.
Now, if the harvest is over
And the world cold,
Give me the bonus of laughter
As I lose hold.


= = = = = = = = = =



The Old Gumbie Cat by T S Eliot From Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family's in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice--
Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse--cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!

But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do--
And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo.

So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers--
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.



= = = = = = = = = =



Lickety, Splickety, and the Old Tom Cat by Author Unknown

Lickety, splickety, very pernickety
Mrs. O'Connolly hustles along on her
Rickety bicycle, cold as an icicle,
Treadalling pedalling meddling on!

And the old
tom cat
stretches slowly
by the fire.

What can the matter be, Mrs. O'Rafferty
Falling all over herself in her worry to
Get to the baker and pick out a cake for a
Jolly-good-gobble-it-down-in-a-hurry!

And the old
tom cat
pads slowly
up the stairs.

Oh what calamity, Mrs. O'Flamity
Falls out the window on top of a barrow -
it tumbles and jumbles up Mrs. O'Connolly -
Mrs. O'Rafferty slips down a narrow
Gap down by the gutter and falls in a pothole.
Oh mercy! The poor silly thing is in agony!
Mrs. O'Connolly's under a jag! Any
witnesses please to the dreadful calamity
Come to the Polis and please bring a bottle!

And the old
tom cat
rolls over, smiles, and sleeps.




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