The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes Part 3

There's lots of work for Uncle Ike, Fatty Ford and me All day long and half the night At Beela by the sea.

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A MATTER OF TASTE

"Thank you, dear," said the big black ant, "I'd like to go home with you now, but I can't.

I have to hurry and milk my cows-- The aphid herds on the aster boughs."

And the ladybug said: "No doubt it's fine, This milk you get from your curious kine, But you know quite well it's my belief Your cows are best when turned to beef."

TOMMY, MY SON

"Tommy, my son," said the old tabby cat, "Go catch us some mice, and be sure that they're fat.

There's one family lives in the carpenter's barn; They've made them a nest of the old lady's yarn.

But the carpenter has a young cat of his own That is healthy and proud and almost full grown, And consider it, son, an eternal disgrace To come home at night with a scratch on your face."

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OH, SAID THE WORM

"Oh," said the worm, "I'm awfully tired of sitting in the trees; I want to be a b.u.t.terfly And chase the b.u.mblebees."

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BUZZY BROWN

Buzzy Brown came home from town As crazy as a loon, He wore a purple overcoat And sang a Sunday tune.

Buzzy Brown came home from town As proud as he could be, He found three doughnuts and a bun A-growing on a tree.

THE WIND

The wind came a-whooping, down Cranberry Hill And stole an umbrella from, Mother Medill.

It picked up a paper on Patterson's place And carried it clean to the Rockaby Race.

And what was more shocking and awful than that, It blew the new feather off grandmother's hat.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WIND CAME A-WHOOPING DOWN CRANBERRY HILL]

THE HOBO BAND

The roads are good and the weather's grand, So I'm off to play in the Hobo Band; With a gaspipe flute and a cowhide drum I'm going to make the music come.

With a toot, toot, toot, and a dum, dum, dum, Just hear me make the music come!

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A BEETLE ON A BROOMSTRAW

A robin and a wren, as they walked along one night, Saw a big brown beetle on a broomstraw.

Said the robin to the wren: "What a pretty, pretty sight-- That big brown beetle on a broomstraw!"

So they got their plates and knives, Their children and their wives, And gobbled up the beetle on the broomstraw.

MULE THOUGHTS

A silly little mule Sat on a milking stool And tried to write a letter to his father.

But he couldn't find the ink, So he said: "I rather think This writing letters home is too much bother."

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A CANDLE, A CANDLE