The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes Part 16

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BOATS

Hitch up your cattle And drive to Seattle To see all the boats come in,-- From Kibi and Kobi And Panama Dobi And some from the Islands of Myn.

They're bringing us rices And cocoa and spices And pineapples done up in tin, And maybe Aunt Dinah Will come back from China If ever the boats get in.

PRETTY THINGS

Pretty poppies, Pretty trees, Pretty little lettuce-leaves, Pretty pebbles, Red and brown, Pretty floating thistle-down.

Pretty baby, Curly head, Standing in a pansy-bed, Pretty clouds All white and curled-- O the great, big pretty world!

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DID YOU EVER?

Did you ever go to the watering trough And watch the sparrows drink?

Did you ever go to Potter's pond And see the divers sink?

Did you ever steal to the barn at night And watch the hoot-owls think?

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HOOTEM, TOOTEM, CLEAR THE TRACK

Hootem, tootem, clear the track!

I caught a c.o.o.n on Kamiak!

Colonel Clapp and Uncle Rome Have hired a hack to bring it home.

DOCTOR DRAKE

On a hummock by the lake Stands the home of Doctor Drake, Poor old doctor, how he works!

Week by week he never s.h.i.+rks--

Pulling teeth for guinea-fowl, Soothing puppies when they howl, Whittling out a hickory peg For a gander's broken leg,

Giving medicine away About a hundred times a day, Linseed oil and elder-bark To a croaking meadowlark,

Nasty, bitter yarrow-tea To a tipsy b.u.mble-bee, A poultice made of plantain leaves To cure a rabbit with the heaves.

Fever, colic, cramp, or st.i.tch, Kitten-croup or beaver's-itch, Any kind of pain or ache Is cured by dear, old Doctor Drake.

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BABIES

Come to the land where the babies grow, Like flowers in the green, green gra.s.s.

Tiny babes that swing and crow Whenever the warm winds pa.s.s, And laugh at their own bright eyes aglow In a fairy looking-gla.s.s.

Come to the sea where the babies sail In s.h.i.+ps of s.h.i.+ning pearl, Borne to the west by a golden gale Of sun-beams all awhirl; And perhaps a baby brother will sail To you, my little girl.

TWENTY THIEVES FROM ALBION

Twenty thieves from Albion, All with butcher knives, Coming on the dead run, Fighting for their lives.

See the man from our town.

In a fancy vest, Knocking all the big ones down, Chasing all the rest.

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AS I CAME OUT OF GRUNDY GREET

As I came out of Grundy Greet Four cats were marching down the street

One was long and gray and thin With lots of whiskers on his chin,

And one was round and sleek and fat (He must have been a butcher's cat).

One was dapper, slight, and frail, With bells and ta.s.sels on his tail,