Corey Cottrell: POETRY
POETRY
*****************************************************************

Ever since I was a barefoot boy with cheek of tan I have enjoyed poetry and prose. Consequently I have composed and collected more than my fair share of poems, so I thought that I would include a few here for you to enjoy, or at least look over.

These poems are taken from a collection entitled "The Blue Sky Book" (copyright 1946 The L. W. Singer Company). This book was, I believe, one of the books that my mother used when she taught elementary school in Niles, MI. It contains both prose and poetry and is part of a series of at least 3 books. The only reason I say "at least" is because I have 3 of the books in the series, but that doesn't mean there aren't more. Some of you may have even seen this book in your parents bookcases or may have even had it yourselves going through school.

From this collection I have decided to select works from Eugene Field, a children's author that I very much enjoy. What's more, he is from the great metropolis of Chicago so you can't do much better than that. If you want more information about Eugene Field check out the author page, otherwise enjoy some lite reading.

Here is a list of poems that are putting in an appearance today.



THE DUEL
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Not one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat
(I wasn't there I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "Me-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always hated a family row!
(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! What shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw--
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't fancy I exaggerate--
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole the pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)



Sure enough, it's a flash back to childhood, but isn't the age of innocence a good thing? (Shakespeare says in 'Much Ado' through Constable Dogberry "When the age is in the wit is out.") Along that same line of thinking, try these poems on for size.


LITTLE BOY BLUE
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue--
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place--
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.



This next poem I memorized when I was in eighth grade, and I haven't been able to shake it from my cranium. Not that I would want to, I'm just making a point that it is amazing what sticks with a person over the years. If there are liberties taken in the translation, I will appologise in advance. I wrote it down as I remembered it, and there may be a couple of instances where it has been modified, ever so slightly, from it's original version.


JES 'FORE CHRISTMAS
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willy, but the fellers call me Bill.
Mighty glad I ain't a girl, rather be a boy;
Without them sashes, curls, and things that's worn by Fauntleroy.
Fact is, most 'o the time the whole year though there ain't no flies on me;
'Cept jes 'fore Christmas when I'm as good as I can be.

Got a yeller dog named Sport, sick him on the cat.
First thing she knows she don't know where she's at.
Got a clipper sled, and when us kids go and slide
Along comes the grocery cart; so we all hook a ride.
But sometimes, when the grocery man is irrated and cross,
He reaches down with his old whip and larrups up his hos'.
Then I laugh and holler, "You never teched me!"
'Cept jes 'fore Christmas when I'm as good as I can be.

Grandma says she hopes, when I get to be a man,
I'll be a missionary like her oldest brother Dan;
Who was 'et up by the cannibals down on Cylan's Isle,
Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile.
But grandma has never been to see a wild west show,
Nor read the life of Daniel Boone or I guess she'd know
That Buffalo Bill and cowboys is good enough for me;
'Cept jes 'fore Christmas when I'm as good as I can be.

Then 'ol Sport he hangs around all solemn like and still;
His eyes seem a sayin', "What's the matter little Bill?"
The cat sneaks down off her perch and wonders what's become
Of those two enemies of her'n that used to make things hum.
But I'm so perlite, and tend so ernestly to biz
That mother says to father, "How improved our Willy is."
But father, having been a boy his-self, suspicions me
When jes 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I can be.

For Chistmas, with it's candies, cakes, and toys,
Was made, they say, for "proper kids" and not for naughty boys.
So wash your face and brush your hair and mind your "P's & Q's."
And don't bust out your pantiloons and don't wear out your shoes.
Say, "Yes'm" to the ladies and "Yessir" to the men,
And when there is company for dinner don't pass your plate for pie again.
Jes think'n of those things you want to see upon that tree,
Jes 'fore Christmas be as good as you can be.



PITTYPAT & TIPPYTOE
All day long they come and go--
Pittypat and Tippytoe;
Footprints up and down the hall
Playthings scattered on the floor,
Finger marks along the wall,
Telltale smudges on the door,--
By these presents you shall know
Pittypat and Tippytoe.

How they riot at their play!
And a dozen times a day
In they troop, demanding bread--
Only buttered bread will do,
And that butter must be spread
Inches thick with sugar too!
And I never can say "No,
Pittypat and Tippytoe!"

Sometimes there are griefs to soothe,
Sometimes ruffled brows to smooth;
For (I much regret to say)
Tippytoe and Pittypat
Sometimes interrupt their play
With an internecine spat;
Fie, for shame! to quarrel so--
Pittypat and Tippytoe!

Hands to scrub and hair to brush,
Search for playthings gone amiss,
Many a wee complaint to hush,
Many a little bump to kiss;
Life seems one vain, fleeting show
To Pittypat and Tippytoe!

And when day is at and end,
There are little duds to mend:
Little frocks are strangely torn,
Little shoes great holes reveal,
Rudely yawn at toe and heel!
Who but you could work that woe,
Pittypat and Tippytoe?

On the floor and down the hall,
Rudely smutched upon the wall,
There are proofs in every kind
Of the havoc they have wrought,
And upon my heart you'd find
Just such trade-marks, if you sought,
Oh, how glad I am 'tis so,
Pittypat and Tippytoe!



THE NIGHT WIND
Have you ever heard the wind go "Yooooo!"
'Tis a pitiful sound to hear!
It seems to chill you through and through
With a strange and speechless fear.
'Tis the voice of the night that broods outside
When folks should be asleep,
And many and many's the time I've cried
To the darkness brooding far and wide
Over the land and the deep:
"Whom do you want, O lonely night,
That you wail the long hours through?"
And the night would say in its ghostly way:
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!


My mother told me long ago
(When I was a little lad)
That when the night went wailing so,
Somebody had been bad;
And then, when I was snug in bed,
Whither I had been sent,
With the blankets pulled up round my head,
I'd think of what my mother'd said,
And wonder what boy she meant!
And "who's been bad today?" I'd ask
Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
And the voice would say in its meaningful way:
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!


That this was true I must allow--
You'll not believe it, though!
Yes, though I'm quite a model now,
I was not always so.
And if you doubt what things I say,
Suppose you make the test:
Suppose, when you've been bad some day
And up to bed are sent away
From mother and the rest--
Suppose you ask, "Who has been bad?"
And then you'll hear what's true;
For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!
"Yooooo!



THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE
Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
'Tis a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the lollipop sea,
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of the fruit to be happy next day.

When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below--
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:

You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.
And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around
From this leafy limb unto that,
And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground--
Hurrah for the chocolate cat!

There are marshmellows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains
As much as your apron can hold!
So come, little child, cuddle closer to me
In your dainty white nightcap and gown,
And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.


WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD
Wynken, Bynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
Sailed on a river of crystal light,
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old man asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea--
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish--
Never afeared are we;"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam--
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
As if it could not be.
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea--
But I shall name you the fishermen three;
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed
So shut your eyes while mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be.
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three;
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.



Good Night

All poems (except "Jes 'Fore Christmas") copyright © 1946, by The L. W. Singer Company.

oTRIPS

oMY BIO

oFEATURED AUTHOR

Back to Corey's Page...
*****************************************************************
E-mail me at: ccottrel@cuc.edu
Last Modified on Monday July 5, 1998