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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 - 2015

 

Epitaph on Jack McMarra by Stuart McLean

Here lies Jack McMarra,
Fell under a barra,
Nae mair livin’,
Gone tae Hivin,
Here lies Jack McMarra.

Stuart McLean (From No' Rabbie Burns)



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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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The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt

Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.'
Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.'


'I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?' said the Spider to the Fly.
'There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!'
Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!'


Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, ' Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?'
'Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!'


'Sweet creature!' said the Spider, 'you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.'
'I thank you, gentle sir,' she said, 'for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.'


The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
'Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!'

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!


And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.


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Pease porridge hot by Anonymous

Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot
Nine days old.


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There was an Old Man of the North by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man of the North,
Who fell into a basin of broth;
But a laudable cook,
Fished him out with a hook,
Which saved that Old Man of the North.



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