Monday, March 16, 2015

A Poem A Day


                The idea for using poetry in class comes indirectly from Sound Foundations by Adrian Underhill.  Adrian Underhill talks about how he uses “nursery rhymes and limericks” (p. 180) to teach rhythm, rhyme, intonation, and stressed and unstressed syllables.  In his book (pages 180-186) Adrian Underhill suggests several pronunciation and recitation activities that can be done with nursery rhymes and limericks.

                I don’t actually do a lot of explicit pronunciation activities in my classrooms.  (…although arguably maybe I should, but that’s another subject for another post…)  But, I thought that perhaps if I gave my students a lot of exposure to poetry, they may start picking up a lot of the features of rhythm, intonation, and stress patterns on their own just by listening to it.  Particularly with the beginning students, or with the younger learners, I thought that a certain amount of exposure to poetry might be good for pre-empting bad pronunciation habits before they had a chance to form.  (At any rate, since it only took up a couple minutes of class time, I figured one poem every lesson would certainly do my students no harm!)

                And so, I decided to start reading one poem every lesson with my young learner classes.

                I hand out the poem to my students, and then I read it aloud as they follow along with me.  I don’t explicitly draw their attention to any of the pronunciation or rhythm features, but I’m hoping with enough repeated exposure to poetry they will start to pick these up on their own (either consciously or subconsciously). 
                Because my voice acting range is limited, in cases where there is a good audio recording of the poem on youtube or something, I will often use that instead.  Or I read it once myself, and then play the youtube recording as a second reading.  In cases where a good audio recording is unavailable, I just have to make do with my own voice.

                Because the purpose of this activity is on the sounds of English, I don’t believe it’s actually essentially that my students understand the meaning of the poem completely, and in fact some of these poems bordered on being largely incomprehensible to my Young Learner students.  But that being said, obviously if they can understand and enjoy the poem, then it’s much preferable—that way the poem could also function as a source of comprehensible input in addition to its other benefits.
                For my young learner classes, I found the poems of Shel Silverstein worked wonderfully.  They could understand Shel Silverstein, they got the humor, they laughed, and they actually enjoyed the poems. 

                Below are all the poems I’ve used so far in my classes. 
As I continue to discover good poems in the future, I’m hoping to add to this list later, and I plan to continue to edit this post and add more poems as I discover them.  But as of this writing (the original posting date) there are 30 poems, which were enough to get me through one term at my current school.  (At my school one term consists of 30 lessons.)  Originally it was my intention to exposure my students to a wide variety of poetry from a wide variety of authors, but because Shel Silverstein poems seemed to work the best, I kept returning to Shel Silverstein over and over again.  So the list below is heavy on Shel Silverstein. 
                Because this was my first term doing this, I struggled sometimes to find decent poems to use in the classroom.  Although I managed to get through 30 classes, some of the entries on this list probably weren’t the best poems I could have chosen.  I’m hoping that as I continue to do this, I’ll be able to continue to build up my repertoire of good poems to use in the classroom.  In the meantime, if anyone has any good ideas for me, please let me know in the comments section.

                For each poem, I created a Microsoft word document in which I adjusted the formatting somewhat, and also added in various pictures and images.  (None of the images are my own creation, all of them were whatever I could grab with a quick search of Google Images).  I’ve posted these documents on Google Docs, so to see the Microsoft word documents complete with the added visuals, just follow the link to the Google Docs version.  On this blog post, however, I am only reposting the text of the poems, and not any of the visuals.

                For many of these poems, there are some great videos available on youtube.  (The visuals in many of these videos help to make the meaning of the poem clear.)  I was fortunate enough to have an LCD projector in my classroom, so after we finished reading the poem once, I would sometimes show my students the video of the poem.  In those cases, I have included the links below for any videos that I found useful for particular poems. 

Google Drive Folder HERE
Antigonish (drive, docs, pub)
Backward Bill (drive, docs, pub)
Cloony the Clown (drive, docs, pub)
Dreadful (drive, docs, pub)
Help (drive, docs, pub)
Homework Machine (drive, docs, pub)
Ladies First (drive, docs, pub)
Lazy Jane (drive, docs, pub)
Listen to the Mustn'ts (drive, docs, pub)
Messy Room (drive, docs, pub)
My Rules (drive, docs, pub)
My Shadow (drive, docs, pub)
Nothing Gold Can Stay (drive, docs, pub)
Roger was a Razorfish (drive, docs, pub)
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out (drive, docs, pub)
Sick (drive, docs, pub)
Sounds and Letters Don't Agree (drive, docs, pub)
The Ant Eater (drive, docs, pub)
The Battle (drive, docs, pub)
The Boa Constrictor (drive, docs, pub)
The Crocodile (drive, docs, pub)
The Crocodile's Toothache (drive, docs, pub)
The Dentist and the Crocodile (drive, docs, pub)
The Pig (drive, docs, pub)
The Spider and the Fly (drive, docs, pub)
The Tiger Who Wore White Gloves (drive, docs, pub)
The Wolf Hunt (drive, docs, pub)
What Are Little Boys Made Of (drive, docs, pub)
What Did you Learn in School Today (drive, docs, pub)
What-If (drive, docs, pub)
When All the World is Young, Lad (drive, docs, pub)
You Are Old Father William (drive, docs, pub)

Playlist HERE




                Below is my list:

Antigonish--Google Docs Link
Antigonish by Hughes Mearns (1899)


Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...



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Backward Bill Google Doc Link
I've used this youtube video: Audio only

Backward Bill by Shel Silverstein (1981)

Backward Bill, Backward Bill,
He lives way up on Backward Hill,
Which is really a hole in the sandy ground
(But that's a hill turned upside down).

Backward Bill's got a backward shack
With a big front porch that's built out back.
You walk through the window and look out the door
And the cellar is up on the very top floor.

Backward Bill he rides like the wind
Don't know where he's going but sees where he's been.
His spurs they go "neigh" and his horse it goes "clang,"
And his six-gun goes "gnab," it never goes "bang."

Backward Bill's got a backward pup,
They eat their supper when the sun comes up,
And he's got a wife named Backward Lil,
"She's my own true hate," says Backward Bill.

Backward Bill wears his hat on his toes
And puts on his underwear over his clothes.
And come every payday he pays his boss,
And rides off a-smiling a-carrying his hoss.


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Cloony the Clown: Google Docs Link

Cloony The Clown by Shel Silverstein  (1981)

I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT....
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.






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Dreadful by Shel Silverstein (1974) 
Someone ate the baby.
It's rather sad to say.
Someone ate the baby
So she won't be out to play.

We'll never hear her whiney cry
Or have to feel if she is dry.
We'll never hear her asking "Why?"
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
It's absolutely clear
Someone ate the baby
'Cause the baby isn't here.

We'll give away her toys and clothes.
We'll never have to wipe her nose.
Dad says, "That's the way it goes."
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
What a frightful thing to eat!
Someone ate the baby
Though she wasn't very sweet.

It was a heartless thing to do.
The policemen haven't got a clue.
I simply can't imagine who
Would go and (burp) eat the baby






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Help by Shel Silverstein (1996)
I walked through the wildwood, and what did I see
But a unicorn with his horn stuck in a tree,
Crying, “Someone please help me before it‘s too late.”
I hollered, “I’ll free you.” He hollered back, “Wait--
How much will it hurt? How long will it take?
Are you sure that my horn will not scratch, bend, or break?
How hard will you pull? How much must I pay?
Must you do it right now or is Wednesday okay?
Have you done this before? Do you have the right tools?
Have you graduated from horn-saving school?
Will I owe you a favor? And what will it be?
Do you promise that you will not damage the tree?
Should I close my eyes? Should I sit down or stand?
Do you have insurance? Have you washed your hands?
And after you free me--tell me what then?
Can you guarantee I won’t get stuck again?
Tell me when. Tell me how.
Tell me why. Tell me where….”
I guess that he’s still sitting there.





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Homework Machine Google Docs Link

Homework Machine by Shel Silverstein (1981)

The Homework Machine, oh the Homework Machine,
The most perfect contraption that’s ever been seen.
Just put in your homework, then drop in a dime,
Snap on the switch, and in ten seconds’ time,
Your homework comes out, quick and clean as can be.
Here it is—“nine plus four?” and the answer is “three.”
Three?
Oh dear me…
I guess it’s not as perfect
As I thought it would be.



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Ladies First Google Docs Version

“Ladies First”  by Shel Silverstein (1981)
Pamela Purse yelled, “Ladies first,”
Pushing in front of the ice cream line.
Pamela Purse yelled, “Ladies first,”
Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.
Climbing on the morning bus
She’d shove right by all of us
And there’d be a tiff or a fight or a fuss
When Pamela Purse yelled, “Ladies first.”
Pamela Purse screamed, “Ladies first,”
When we went off on our jungle trip.
Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse
And guzzled our water, every sip.
And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,
Who tied us together and made us all stand
In a long line in front of the King of the land-
A cannibal known as Fry-‘Em-Up Dan,
Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand
With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,
As he tried to decide who’d be first in the pan-
From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,
Pamela Purse yelled, “Ladies first.”



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Lazy Jane by Shel Silverstein 1974

Lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy Jane.
She wants a drink of water,
so she waits and waits and waits and waits and waits
for it to rain. 




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Listen to the Mustn'ts Google Docs Version Here

Listen to the Mustn'ts by Shel Silverstein (1974)

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
 Listen to the DON'TS
 Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S
listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be


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Messy Room Google Docs Link

Messy Room by Shel Silverstein 1981

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!







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My Rules by Shel Silverstein (1974)
If you want to marry me, here’s what you’ll have to do:
You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.
And you must sew my holey socks,
And soothe my troubled mind,
And develop a knack for scratching my back,
And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.
And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk… and be still when I talk,
And—hey—where are you going?





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My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson  (1885)
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.


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Roger Was a Razor Fish Google Docs Version

Roger Was a Razor Fish by Al Pitman 1980
Roger was a razor fish
As sharp as he could be
He said to Calvin Catfish
“I’ll shave you for a fee.”
“No thanks,” said Calvin Catfish
“I like me like I be.”
And with his whiskers
On his face
He headed out to sea.




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SARAH CYNTHIA SYLVIA STOUT WOULD NOT TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT Google Docs Version

SARAH CYNTHIA SYLVIA STOUT WOULD NOT TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT by Shel Silverstein (1974)

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out.
She'd wash the dishes and scrub the pans
Cook the yams and spice the hams,
And though her parents would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceiling:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas and rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the windows and blocked the door,
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peels,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans, and tangerines,
Crusts of black-burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roast.
The garbage rolled on down the halls,
It raised the roof, it broke the walls,
I mean, greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Blobs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from old bologna,
Rubbery, blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk, and crusts of pie,
Rotting melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold French fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky,
And none of her friends would come to play,
And all of her neighbors moved away;
And finally, Sarah Cynthia Stout
Said, "Okay, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course it was too late,
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate;
And there in the garbage she did hate
Poor Sarah met an awful fate
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late
But children, remember Sarah Stout,
And always take the garbage out.



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I've used this youtube video in class-audio and visual

Sick by Shel Silverstein (1974)
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue -
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke -
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My appendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is -
what? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is ... Saturday?
Good-bye, I'm going out to play!"



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Sounds and Letters Don't Agree Google Docs Link

Sounds and Letters Don't Agree by Lord Cromer 1902

When the English tongue we speak,
Why does break not rhyme with weak?
Won't you tell me why it's true
We say sew, but also few?
And the maker of a verse
Cannot rhyme his horse with worse?
Beard is not the same as heard.
Cord is different from word,
Cow is cow, but low is low,
Shoe is never ryhmed with foe.
Think of hose and dose and lose,
And think of loose and yet of choose,
Think of comb and tomb and bomb
Doll and roll and home and some.
And since pay is rhymed with say
Why not paid with said I pray?
Think of blood and food and good;
Mould is not pronounced like could.
Why is it done, but gone and lone
Is there any reason known?
To sum up, it seems to me
That sounds and letters don't agree.


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The Ant-Eater Google Docs Link
I've used this youtube video here--audio and visual

The Ant-Eater by Roald Dahl (1983)


Some wealthy folks from U.S.A.,
Who lived near San Francisco Bay,
Possessed an only child called Roy,
A plump and unattractive boy -
Half-baked, half-witted and half-boiled,
But worst of all, most dreadfully spoiled.
Whatever Roy desired each day,
His father bought him right away -
Toy motorcars, electric trains,
The latest model aeroplanes,
A colour television-set,
A saxophone, a clarinet,
Expensive teddy-bears that talked,
And animals that walked and squawked.
That house contained sufficient toys
To thrill a half a million boys.
(As well as this, young Roy would choose,
Two pairs a week of brand-new shoes.)
And now he stood there shouting, “What on earth is there I haven’t got?
“How hard to think of something new!
The choices are extremely few!”
Then added, as he scratched his ear,
“Hold it! I’ve got a good idea!
I think the next thing I must get
Should be a most peculiar pet -
The kind that no one else has got -
A giant ANT-EATER! Why not?”
As soon as father heard the news,
He quickly wrote to all the zoos.
“Dear Sirs,” he said, “My dear keepers,
Do any of you have ant-eaters?”
They answered by return of mail.
“Our ant-eaters are not for sale.”
Undaunted, Roy’s fond parent hurled
More messages across the world.
He said, “I’ll pay you through the nose
If you can get me one of those.”
At last he found an Indian gent
(He lived near Delhi, in a tent),
Who said that he would sacrifice
His pet for an enormous price
(The price demanded, if you please,
Was fifty thousand gold rupees).
The ant-eater arrived half-dead.
It looked at Roy and softly said,
“I’m famished. Do you think you could
Please give me just a little food?
A crust of bread, a bit of meat?
I haven’t had anything to eat
In all the time I was at sea,
For nobody looked after me,”
Roy shouted, “No! No bread or meat!
Go find some ants! They’re what you eat!”
The starving creature crawled away.
It searched the garden night and day,
It hunted every inch of ground,
But not one single ant it found,
“Please give me food!” the creature cried.
“Go find an ant!” the boy replied.
By chance, upon that very day,
Roy’s father’s sister came to stay -
A foul old hag of eighty-three
Whose name, it seems, was Dorothy.
She said to Roy, “Come let us sit
Out in the sun and talk a bit,”
Roy said, “I don’t believe you’ve met
My new and most unusual pet?”
He pointed down among the stones
Where something lay, all skin and bones.
“Ant-eater!” He yelled. “Don’t lie there yawning!
This is my aunt! Come say good-morning!”
(Some people in the U.S.A.
Have trouble with the words they say.
However hard they try, they can’t
Pronounce simple words like AUNT.
Instead of AUNT, they call it ANT,
Instead of CAN’T, they call it KANT.)
Roy yelled, “Come here, you so and so!
My aunt would like to say hello!”
Slowly, the creature raised its head.
“Do you mean that that’s an ant?” it said.
“Of course!” cried Roy. “Aunt Dorothy!
This aunt is over eighty-three.”
The creature smiled. Its tummy rumbled.
It licked its starving lips and mumbled,
“A giant ant! By gosh, a winner!
At last I’ll get a decent dinner!
No matter if it’s eighty-three.
If that’s an ant, then it’s for me!”
Then, taking very careful aim,
It pounced upon the startled dame.
It grabbed her firmly by the hair
And ate her up right then and there,
Murmuring as it chewed the feet,
“The largest ant I’ll ever eat.”
Meanwhile, our hero Roy had sped
In terror to the potting-shed.
And tried to make himself obscure
Behind a pile of horse-manure.
But ant-eater came sneaking in
(Already it was much less thin)
And said to Roy, “You little squirt,
I think I’ll have you for dessert.”



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The Battle Google Docs Link

The Battle by Shel Silverstein (1974)
Would you like to hear
Of the terrible night
When I bravely fought the--
No?
All right.



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The Boa Constrictor Poem Google Docs Link

The Boa Constrictor Poem by Shel Silverstein 1974
I'm being swallowed by a Boa Constrictor
a Boa Constrictor, a Boa Constrictor
I'm being swallowed by a Boa Constrictor
and I don't - like snakes - one bit!
Oh no, he swallowed my toe.
Oh gee, he swallowed my knee.
Oh fiddle, he swallowed my middle.
Oh what a pest, he swallowed my chest.
Oh heck, he swallowed my neck.
Oh, dread, he swallowed my - MMMMFFFF!!!





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The Crocodile Google Docs Link
I've used this youtube video here: audio and visual

The Crocodile by Roald Dahl (1983)

No animal is half as vile
As Crocky–Wock, the crocodile.
On Saturdays he likes to crunch
Six juicy children for his lunch
And he especially enjoys
Just three of each, three girls, three boys.
He smears the boys (to make them hot)
With mustard from the mustard pot.
But mustard doesn't go with girls,
It tastes all wrong with plaits and curls.
With them, what goes extremely well
Is butterscotch and caramel.
It's such a super marvellous treat
When boys are hot and girls are sweet.
At least that's Crocky's point of view
He ought to know. He's had a few.
That's all for now. It's time for bed.
Lie down and rest your sleepy head.
Ssh. Listen. What is that I hear,
Galumphing softly up the stair?

Go lock the door and fetch my gun!
Go on child, hurry! Quickly run!
No stop! Stand back! He's coming in!
Oh, look, that greasy greenish skin!
The shining teeth, the greedy smile!
It's Crocky–Wock, the Crocodile!



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The Crocodile's Toothache Google Docs Link
I've used this youtube video here: audio and visual

The Crocodile's Toothache by Shel Silverstein (1974)
The Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, "Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?"
And the Crocodile said, "I'll tell you the truth,
I have a terrible ache in my tooth,"
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist, he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, "Oh isn't this fun?"
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, "You're hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go."
But the dentist laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, "I still have twelve to go-
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess,
But what's one crocodile's tooth more or less?"
Then suddenly, the jaws went SNAP,
And the dentist was gone, right off the map,
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist, more or less?





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The Dentist and the Crocodile Google Docs Version Here

The Dentist and the Crocodile By Roald Dahl

The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist's chair.
He said, "Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair."
The dentist's face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.
He muttered, "I suppose I'm going to have to take a look."
"I want you," Crocodile declared, "to do the back ones first.
The molars at the very back are easily the worst."
He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight––
At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.
The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.
He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.
"I said to do the back ones first!" the Crocodile called out.
"You're much too far away, dear sir, to see what you're about.
To do the back ones properly you've got to put your head
Deep down inside my great big mouth," the grinning Crocky said.
The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,
He cried, "No no! I see them all extremely well from here!"
Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.
She cried, "Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you're playing tricks again!"
"Watch out!" the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.
"He's after me! He's after you! He's going to eat us all!"
"Don't be a twit," the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.
"He's harmless. He's my little pet, my lovely crocodile."



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I've used this youtube video here: audio and visual

The Pig by Roald Dahl (1983)
In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully clever pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, “By gum, I've got the answer!
They want my bacon slice by slice
To sell at a tremendous price!
They want my tender juicy chops
To put in all the butcher's shops!
They want my pork to make a roast
And that's the part'll cost the most!
They want my sausages in strings!
They even want my chitterlings!
The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
That is the reason for my life!”
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grisly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
“I had a fairly powerful hunch
That he might have me for his lunch.
And so, because I feared the worst,
I thought I'd better eat him first.” 



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The Spider and the Fly Google Docs Link

The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt (1829)

“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly, 
It is 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 show 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 never 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 never came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you never 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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The Tiger Who Wore White Gloves, or, What You Are You Are Google Docs Here

The Tiger Who Wore White Gloves, or, What You Are You Are By Gwendolyn Brooks

There once was a tiger, terrible and tough,
who said "I don't think tigers are stylish enough.
They put on only orange and stripes of fierce black.
Fine and fancy fashion is what they mostly lack.
Even though they proudly
speak most loudly,
so that the jungle shakes
and every eye awakes—
Even though they slither
hither and thither
in such a wild way
that few may care to stay—
to be tough just isn't enough."
These things the tiger said,
And growled and tossed his head,
and rushed to the jungle fair
for something fine to wear.

Then!—what a hoot and yell
upon the jungle fell
The rhinoceros rasped!
The elephant gasped!
"By all that's sainted!"
said wolf—and fainted.

The crocodile cried.
The lion sighed.
The leopard sneered.
The jaguar jeered.
The antelope shouted.
The panther pouted.
Everyone screamed
"We never dreamed
that ever could be
in history
a tiger who loves
to wear white gloves.
White gloves are for girls
with manners and curls
and dresses and hats and bow-ribbons.
That's the way it always was
and rightly so, because
it's nature's nice decree
that tiger folk should be
not dainty, but daring,
and wisely wearing
what's fierce as the face,
not whiteness and lace!"

They shamed him and shamed him—
till none could have blamed him,
when at last, with a sigh
and a saddened eye,
and in spite of his love,
he took off each glove,
and agreed this was meant
all to prevail:
each tiger content
with his lashing tail
and satisfied
with his strong striped hide.



*****************************************************
The Wolf Hunt Google Docs Here


The Wolf Hunt


Wolves have to hunt
For them it is quite a stunt

First they go and stare at the deer
This fills the creatures with fear

Then the deer begin to run
And the hunt has begun

The wolves pick up the pace
And so begins a furious chase

Then a wolf with all his might
Caught up to a deer and gave her a bite

The deer kicked the wolf really hard
The wolf went flying almost a yard

The wolf went up for a flight
It was really quite a sight

The wolf went through the air with a flash
And landed on the ground with a great big crash

Another deer stood up to fight
With hooves that shone as black as night

He kicked a wolf and gave a bellow
He was really quite a strong fellow

The wolves passed him by he was not their pick
They wanted a deer who was old and sick

Then they found the perfect prey
It would be the kill of the day

The wolves then closed in
Each one thinking of the pups in the den

If they could bring it down there would be meat for all
Even the pups who were very small









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What are Little Boys Made of Google Docs Link


What Are Little Boys Made Of (Anonymous, Sometime in the Early 19th Century)


What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails,

That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of. 


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WHAT DID YOU LEARN IN SCHOOL TODAY? Google Docs Link

WHAT DID YOU LEARN IN SCHOOL TODAY? by Tom Paxton 1964

What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?
What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?

I learned that Washington never told a lie
I learned that soldiers seldom die
I learned that everybody's free
And that’s what the teacher said to me
And that’s what I learned in school today,
that’s what I learned in school.

What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?
What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?

I learned the policemen are my friends
I learned that justice never ends
I learned that murderers pay for their crimes,
Even if we make a mistake sometimes
And that’s what I learned in school today,
That’s what I learned in school

What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?
What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?

I learned that war is not so bad
I learned about the great ones we once had
We fought in Germany and in France
And some day I might get my chance.
And that’s what I learned in school today,
That’s what I learned in school

What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?
What did you learn in school today,
Dear little boy of mine?
I learned our government must be strong
It's always right and never wrong!
Our leaders are the finest men
And we elect them again and again
And that’s what I learned in school today,
That’s what I learned in school





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What-if Google Docs Here
What-if by Shel Silverstein (1981)

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some What-ifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old What-if song:
What if I'm dumb in school?
What if they've closed the swimming pool?
What if I get beat up?
What if there's poison in my cup?
What if I start to cry?
What if I get sick and die?
What if I flunk that test?
What if green hair grows on my chest?
What if nobody likes me?
What if a bolt of lightning strikes me?
What if I don't grow taller?
What if my head starts getting smaller?
What if the fish won't bite?
What if the wind tears up my kite?
What if they start a war?
What if my parents get divorced?
What if the bus is late?
What if my teeth don't grow in straight?
What if I tear my pants?
What if I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the night time What-ifs strike again!




********************************************************
When All the World is Young, Lad Google Docs Link


When All the World is Young, Lad by Charles Kingsley (1863)

When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green ;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen ;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away ;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown ;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down ;
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,

You loved when all was young.


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You Are Old, Father William Google Docs Version
(I included the original poem in with Lewis Carroll's parody in an effort to show the students what Lewis Carroll was parodying.)

The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them by Robert Southey 1799
"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remembered that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And pleasures with youth pass away.
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remembered that youth could not last;
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hastening away;
You are cheerful and love to converse upon death;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."

You Are Old, Father William by Lewis Carroll 1865

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head-
Do you think, at your age age, it is right?"


"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."


"You are old," said the youth, " as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back somersault in at the door-
Pray, what is the reason of that?"


"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment-one shilling the box-
Allow me to sell you a couple?"


"You are old," said the youth, " and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the back-
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"


"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."'


"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was steady as ever;
Yet, you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-
What made you so awfully clever?"


"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"




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Nothing Gold Can Stay  Google Links

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
 

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