Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere Pleasure Land
WELCOME TO FUN AND GAMES TIME.
"Round the Table" Games.
And it means exactly what it says, you will need the dining room or possibly better, the kitchen table. (Can't have you putting scratches on mums polished brown stuff.)
Then you will need as many chairs as there is kids at the party, gethering, sleep over, etc what ever you will, and depending on the game were going to play...........
One of my favourite games was "Thread the Needle." Great fun, especially if you have lads at the bash!. Next we need the Needles and the Cotton. Each player has six needles and all they have to do is thread the needles. divide the players into two teams and when the first has threaded the needles.. "YOU MUST HAVE THEM CHECKED AND COUNTED ." Then you ppull the thread out and pass them onto the next team member.
The team that completes the task first is obviously the winner and therefore deserves a prize.
- and if you haven't got any chopsticks then you can use sharpened pencils.
You will also need a medicine bottle and Twenty little round beads, (not with big holes in them for it will be too easy to skewer them and drop them in the medicine bottle.) Plastic Bottles would be safer
And there you have it the game. keep the beads in an egg-cup, and transfere them from the egg cup to the bottle using the sticks. Sound Easy. Hm wait and see.
Everyone is given a pencil and paper. across the top of the paper you are going to write down 12 letters. Not just any letters it is up to each player to shout out a letter, any letter
I wonder how many of you have heard of the old Telegram,
I think we would call them Text messages and Email Letters today. xxx
Now to get on with the game, suppose the letters were:-
D D M E W P S F Y U O D
then this is what you could write using the first letter to start but the others in any order;
Dorothy Davies, Moss End.
Wanted POND suitable for young, orphaned offsprings.
Or here is another example;
T A J T I P A D F S S P
Tom and Jerry, Tottenham
Invites Pixie and Dixie for supper
There are plenty more, but not today. xxx
He always comes on market days, And holds balloons - a lovely bunch And in the market square he stays, And never seems to think of lunch.
They're red and purple, blue and green, And when it is a sunny day Tho' carts and people get between You see them shining far away.
And some are big and some are small, All tied together with a string, And if there is a wind at all They tug and tug like anything.
Some day perhaps he'll let them go And we shall see them sailing high, And stand and watch them from below They would look pretty in the sky!
This little poem was written by a lady called Rose (Amy) Fyleman.Although she wrote, edited, or translated more than fifty books for children,
Rose Fyleman is remembered primarily for her poems about fairies. For
several decades she was known as the "accredited poet of fairies," but
her publications extended far beyond poetry and far beyond fairies. She
also wrote fiction--both fantasy and realistic--plays, information
books, and opera librettos.
Born in 1877 in Nottingham, England,
Rose Amy Fyleman began writing as a young girl, functioning as the "poet
laureate" of her family, not, she recalled in 1940, "that any
particular fuss was made of my accomplishments." Still, on holidays and
birthdays she "was expected to produce some sort of rhymed tribute of
the event." Most of those early efforts have not survived, and, indeed,
Fyleman's interest in writing was only occasional and recreational for
approximately forty years.
After her early schooling she studied at the University College in Nottingham where she was, by her own admission, a rather undistinguished student.
She was born on March 6, 1877 and died on August 1, 1957
This information comes from http://www.bookrags.com/biography/rose-amy-fyleman-dlb/ It is the first time I have found them and I have definitely bookmarked them in case I need their help again.
LITTLE BOY BLUE SAYS
WELCOME TO THE PLEASURE DOME The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and staunch he stands; The little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that when the time when our Litle Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there.
"Now don't you go till I come," he said, "And don't you 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!
Aye, 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.
by Eugene Field (1850-1895). diddilydeedotsdreamland .
Hey Diddle Diddle, The Cats on the Fiddle The Cow swam under the Boat, The Little Fish laughed to see such Fun, And the Grey Goat buttoned her coat.
If you saw a goat buttoned in a coat; If you saw a rat dressed up in a hat;
If you saw a lamb take a slice of ham;
If you saw a bear combing out its hair;
If you saw an ox opening a box;
If you saw a pig eat a nice new fig; If you saw a mouse throwing down a house;
If you saw a stag picking up a rag;
If you saw a cow make a pretty bow; If you saw a fly take its slate and cry-
You would surely say, "What peculiar play!"
Or would surely sing, "What a funny thing!"
BOY BENNY AND THE CLOCK
Boy Benny was left all alone, for mother was doing her work. She had given Boy Benny his toys and his books to play with in his playroom. But Benny grew tired of playing and wished he had someone to talk to. "Oh dear!" he cried, "I do wish Mother would come. I'm tired of being alone with no one to speak to me." Just then the clock on the shelf struck the hour. Boy Benny looked up. The clock was ticking the time away. "I believe you could talk if you tried," he said to the clock. "Of course I could," ticked the clock in a clear, sweet voice. "Oh can you really talk?" cried Boy Benny, as he skipped over to the clock and put his hands out to it. "Yes, Boy Benny, I have often wanted to talk to you, but I did not know if you would like it." "Yes, yes," cried Benny. "Of course I like it. Please do go on talking." "Well little boy, do you see that although I am only a clock - I have a face?" Boy Benny was just going to say, oh yes, but your face is flat and round - not a real face, but he just stopped himself in time, for fear the clock might think him rude. So the clock went on, "Yes, and do you see that I have hands as well?" "Yes, yes, a face and hands, just as I have," cried Boy Benny, jumping and dancing about. "But look," went on the clock, "My hands are not both the same size. One is long and the other is short. The long one is much bigger than the short one." "My hands are alike," said Boy Benny, "Why are your hands not the same?" "So that you will know one hand from the other. My long hand does much more work than the little one," said the clock. "How much more, Mr Clock?" "Well, Boy, my long hand moves round my face stroking it and smoothing it, as many times as it can. But the baby hand moves very slowly, while it is going round my face once its big brother goes round twelve times." "But, Mr. Clock, mother told me my hands would get bigger. Perhaps your baby hand will grow up and move faster." " I'm afraid not. If it did it would upset its big brother very much." "What are all the letters around your face for Mr. Clock?" "Well they are not really letter's but numbers Benny Boy. Come quite close and you will see them. This is the number one," and the clock did its best to make Number I nod to Boy Benny. "Yes I see it, I see it, go on Mr Clock." "Now look at the next. It is number two, II, and the next - number, III, and the next again is number four, IIII."" "But Mr Clock, the next one is a letter, though you said they are all numbers! "Ah, little boy, it looks like the letter V, but it really means number five." "And the next is five and one - VI and that makes six," cried Boy Benny with glee. "That is right, and the next is seven, V and II make seven, and next again is eight, V and III is eight." "Oh, what fun!" cried Boy. "Why, you have little adding-up sums all around your face." "Very nearly all round, you bright little boy! But just look at the next one." "I see, I see, but it is made of a I and a X.! "Yes, dear, here the X stands for ten, and this time you take one away from the ten. What does it leave? "I know, I know, it leaves, it leaves - it leaves eight. Is that right?" "No dear, not quite, one from ten leaves - " But Boy Benny cried quickly, "Nine, nine, nine!" "Very well, dear, but try not to shout, or someone will come before we finish our little talk." "All right Mr. Clock, I'll try to speak softly." "So can you tell me the next number then." "Oh yes that is easy - X for ten. We said that just now." "But have you noticed something about the X Benny, look at it hard, can you see two fives? Boy Benny looked and looked. Then suddenly he noticed that the X was two fives joined in the middle. "I can see them! I can see them! Look there is a V at the top and a V at the bottom, and two fives joined together make ten." "Why you are a clever Boy, that's quite right, and the next two are little adding up sums as well. X and I makes eleven and X and II makes twelve. "Now can you tell me about your Tick Tock inside you means?" cried Boy Benny. "I'm afraid there will not be time to tell you before mother comes with your tea." And just then the door was opened and mother came in softly, for fear Benny was asleep. There he was curled up in the chair, he opened his eyes a little and said sleepily, "Tick-tock, tell me about the Tick-tock. "Yes dear, another time, said mother. "Come and wash your hands, ready for your tea. We are going to have cake and - well - what do you think? "Let me guess, let me guess. I know, I know, strawberries and cream!" and off Boy Benny ran to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. He had forgotten all about the tick-tock and was now concentrating on the strawberries and cream. Yummy, yummy, yum
I have never seen a clock like this ever, and as you know Diddily is very old. I wonder who uses a clock like this? Do you think it could be a 24 hour clock and that is why there are 24 Roman Numerals. Very, very strange.
I wonder if anyone out there can see a terrible fire hazard in the room where Boy Benny is?
This story was also written a very, very long time ago by Thank you for leaving us this treasure Ms Rae Pollard
THE FOX AND THE STORK
.. another of Grandpa's wonderful Stories.
In the jungles of Salbani, once a Stork and a Fox became friends. They were often seen moving around together.
The Fox in an attempt to play a practical joke on the Stork invited him for dinner at his house one day.
The Stork reached the fox's residence
at sunset after a full day's hard work. The fox, which managed to make
only thick soup, served it in two flat dishes. The fox lapped up the
soup easily but the stork due to its long beak could not eat the soup
at all and so returned home hungry and sad. The fox was very
cheerful and amused at his friend's discomfort. As it was
already night he could not go to hunt for himself, due to fear of the
jungle creatures who hunt for the stork after dark.
After a week the stork invited the fox for lunch. Foxes hunt at
night for food. The fox arrived at the stork's house at noon. The stork
welcomed the fox with a profusion of words and served lunch consisting
of fish in two long thin-necked pots. It was the turn of the
stork to enjoy lunch whilst the fox looked on, as he could not reach
the fish through the long narrow neck of the pot. The fox returned home
hungry and was sad, as he had not gone out hunting the previous night
in anticipation of a hearty meal at the stork's place. It was now the stork's turn to feel amused at the fox's discomfort.
really do love this web site, Grandpa makes everything about it
wonderful. It will take you days to travel all around, if not weeks but
do go there it is so beautiful. Diddilydeedot xxx
DOGS, CATS, AND MICE.
In the old days, when dogs and cats and mice lived together in perfect
harmony together, the dogs asked the cats to keep certain papers, they
were documents of great importance and he needed them keeping safely
till they came back for them. The cats looked at the pile
of old papers, and they thought, "Why should we be bothered with these
scraps of old papers? Let us ask the mice to take care of this strange
is just what they are fit for." So they did and the mice promised to
keep an eye on the documents, so they should not get lost.
Meanwhile winter came, and it was a hard winter too. The poor little
mice suffered greatly from hunger and cold. There was no grain or food
left for them. Being in despair, they began to nibble the old bits of
documents. The paper didn't taste so bad after all. So they gnawed and
nibbled and ate the best parts, and tore the bad ones into tiny shreds,
till there was not one whole piece left.
Time passed by, till at last one day the dogs came back and wanted
there documents back, so they went to the cats. But the cats said, "We
thought it would be safer to give your documents to our friends the
mice, so they could keep them safe. One moment and we will go and fetch
them for you.So off they went. But instead of the documents they found
only scraps of paper lying on the floor.
The cats were furious. They vowed to kill every mouse they ever met,
who got in their way. But the dogs, when they heard the sad news, got
angry too, and they began to chase the cats, and so to this day it
still continues, the cats chase the mice and the dogs chase the cats.
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of
the year: `Give me a light that I may tread safely into
the unknown.‘ And he replied: `Go out into the darkness
and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and
safer than a known way.‘
from `The Desert ‘ by Minnie Louise Haskins.
Quoted by King George VI in his Christmas Day
Four-Paws, the kitten from the farm, Is come to live with Betsey Jane, Leaving the stack-yard for the warm Flower-compassed cottage in the lane, To wash his idle face and play Among chintz cushions all the day.
Under the shadow of her hair He lies, who loves him nor desists To praise his whiskers and compare The Tabby bracelets on his wrists Omelette at lunch and milk at tea Suit Betsey Jane and so fares he.
Happy beneath her golden hand He purrs contentedly nor hears His mother mourning through the land --- The old grey cat with tattered ears And humble tail and heavy paw Who brought him up among the straw.
Never by day she ventures nigh, But when the dusk grows dim and deep And moths flit out of the strange sky And Betsey has been long asleep Out of the dark she comes and brings Her dark maternal offerings; --
Some field mouse or a throstle caught Near netted fruit or in the corn, Or rat, for this her darling sought In the old barn where he was born; And all lest his dainty bed
Four-Paws were faint or under-fed Only between the twilight hours Under the window panes she walks Shrewdly among the scented flowers Nor snaps the soft nasturtium stalks, Uttering still her plaintive cries, And Four-Paws, from the house replies,
Leaps from his cushion to the floor, Down the brick passage scantily lit, Waits wailing at the outer door Till one arise and open it ---
Then from the swinging lantern's light
Runs to his mother in the night.
wonderful poem about a cat, was written by Helen Parry Eden. The way
this poem is written with so many wonderful coloured words, soft and
hard, old and young, night and day, cold and warm, secure and insecure
--- oh my, should I ever wish I could have wrote this, but no credit is
due myself or my fingers for this was wonderfully written by Helen
Parry Eden, she was bornWindlestone,
Durham, England on the 23rd August 1872 and passed away on the 26th
May 1898, 25 years of age. Such a great loss to the world of poetry.
Alison's Alligator a Tongue Twister Tale by S. E. Schlosser
Alex Alligator arrived at Alison Arthur's apple farm in April,
when the apple trees were covered with blossoms.
"Whatever am I to do with an alligator?" Alison asked.
Inside the box, Alex yawned. Alex stuck his legs through the holes at
the bottom of the box and ambled into the house in search of dinner. "Oh no you don't!" cried Alison. "You cannot live in the house. You
are to stay in the stream behind the apple orchard."
Alison put Alex in the small stream. Then Alison put a strong fence
around the stream so Alex did not try to eat Mrs. Chory's chickens.
Alex liked the stream and his pen. He especially liked the steaks Alison gave him every morning and evening.
One day in August a red apple fell off a tree and rolled under the
fence and into Alex's pen. Alex sniffed it a bit and then took a bite.
It was the most delicious thing Alex had ever eaten. Alex slipped under
the fence and ambled into the apple orchard. Alex found a line of
baskets sitting under a tree. Alex ate all the apples in the baskets. Then he wandered under another tree and ate all the apples in the
baskets he found there. He was very happy. And very full. He went back
into his cage.
Alison came by later with his steak. Alex sniffed at it, but he was not very hungry.
"Do you know what someone did Alex?" asked Alison. Alex yawned.
"Someone stole all my apples. They knocked over the baskets and stole
the apples. If it happens again, I'm calling the police."
That night, Alex had a very pleasant dream about apples. After his
steak the next morning, Alex slipped under the fence and out into the
orchard. There were a bunch of people climbing up and down ladders with
baskets. Alex watched for a few moments. Then he realized that when the
people came down the ladders, their baskets were full of apples.
"Ahhhh!" she screamed. April and her mother ran away as fast as they could.
Alex walked over to another tree. A man was climbing down the ladder.
He stepped on Alex's back. Alex grunted and tried to walk away. The man
looked down at Alex and yelped. The man dropped his basket and ran
toward the house. Alex ate all the apples in his basket.
Just then, Alison came running into the orchard.
"Alex!" she yelled. Alex took one look at Alison and bolted back into his pen. Alison followed him. "So you're the one who ate all my apples." she said. "I'd better fix your cage."
Once Alex's cage was fixed, he could no longer go into the apple
orchard. Alex stared longingly at the trees full of apples.
At dinner time, Alison brought Alex a steak as usual.
"You are a bad boy, Alex," she said. "But I can't blame you for liking apples. I brought you a surprise."
Alison went outside the cage, and picked up a basket. It was full of
apples! Alex ate all the apples before he ate his steak.
Alison laughed. "I'll bring you apples every night Alex," she said. That is exactly what Alison did.
wonderful stories are told by S. E. Schlosser, from the American
Folklore. Please go and pay them a visit. They have far more wonderful
tales for you to read .
little picture above is from another web site called Euro Tales. It has
one of the three little pigs hiding up an apple tree so that the ig bad
wolf wont get him. There are tales from all over Europe on this
wonderful web site. www.eurotales.eril.net/pigsuk.htm
I found this
little poem on a piece of A4 inside one of my books, I do know it isn't
one of mine, but I do think it is rather good so here you go with a stray that has somehow strayed and is now reproduced with gratitude to the unknown author, which was also
written across the bottom of the sheet of paper.
THE STRAY This Monday he asked, "for a crumb, that would do," And Tuesday he pleaded, "if I could make it two." Wednesday he purred that he fancied a fish; "But not on paper, I would rather a dish!" On Thursday he arrived with "It is cold out here,
So what about letting me sleep on a chair?"
Then by Friday he had made it perfectly clear, that lucky for me, he, was going to live here. By Saturday night he'd arrived in my bed and woke me up early, himself, to get fed. Today, we'll share chicken because it is Sunday. I wonder if he's got any plans yet for Monday.
I apologise to the unknown writer for the tiny changes I have made to the verse, Diddilydeedot. xxx
HAVE YOU EVER READ THE BOOK HEIDI. THIS IS A SMALL VERSION OF IT, EVEN IF YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO FOLLOW THE PICTURES.
Brahms Lullaby (Lullaby and Good Night)
Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed. Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.
Lullaby and good night, thy mother's delight Bright angels beside my darling abide They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast. They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.
Sleepyhead, close your eyes, mother's right here beside you. I'll protect you from harm, you will wake in my arms. Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear. Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear.
Lullaby, and sleep tight, hush! My darling is sleeping,
On his sheets white as cream, with his head full of dreams.
When the sky's bright with dawn, he will wake in the morning.
When noontide warms the world, he will frolic in the sun.
The original Johannas Brahms version was composed in German:
Guten Abend, gute Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht,
Mit Näglein besteckt, schlupf unter die Deck!'
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder geweckt
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder geweckt
Guten Abend, gute Nacht, von Englein bewacht
Die zeigen im Traum, dir Christkindleins Baum
Schlaf nun selig und süß, schau im Traum's Paradies
Schlaf nun selig und süß, schau im Traum's Paradies
Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again.
Early tomorrow, if God wills, you will wake once again.
Good evening, and good night. By angels watched,
Who show you in your dream the Christ-child's tree.
Sleep now peacefully and sweetly, see the paradise in your dream.
Sleep now peacefully and sweetly, see the paradise in your dream.
This information coming from Wiki as usual.
Pooh's Halloween In Limerick Land
"I'm just a little black raincloud,hovering under the honey tree. I'm just a little black raincloud;
pay no attention to little old me. Everyone knows that a raincloud doesn't like honey-- no not a nip. I'm just a little black raincloud looking for somewhere to drip!"
This fantastic story comes from the wonderful pen of
Mr George Avery
was frightened. For the road ahead led into an unexplored sector of the
Hundred Acre Wood. The rickety old sign lying in the leaves said Kristen's Wood Ahead. "Strange," said Pooh, "I never noticed this place before. I wonder who this Kristen could be?"
"If only Christopher Robin were here, he could perhaps tell
me. But, if I am to pursuethe Jolly Oligist I will discover who she is
Pooh stood the
sign upright once more and muttered, "Oh bother, I wish someone had picked this up their own self once they knocked it over, and saved me
the trouble of having to do it. It is always the little things that
folks neglect to do."
As Pooh entered the dense curtain of Kristen's Wood, Hootie Owl
called down to him from where he sat, perched on a branch: "Who goes there? WHO? WHO? WHO?"
"I am a bear," said Pooh, "and my name is Pooh." "Can you rhyme," asked Hootie.
"Why YES," answered Pooh. "If I take my time."
Hootie. "You may pass on through. I'll check and see if KLT has a space
in her classroom for you. She's a stickler for correctness you know."
"No, I did not know," said Pooh. "But I have no time to be
schooled by a marm. I must find the Jolly Oligist while his trail is
"Be that as it may," hooted Hootie," should you chance to spy a Limerick, I advise you to stay out of it's way." "I do not
believe," said Pooh, "that I have ever seen one of those. I am only a
silly pooh bear don't you knows. Is a Limerick dangerous? Are they big
"Oh Goodness, YES," hooted Hootie, "They'll eat you alive, unless you're one of the best."
"Oh bother," said Pooh, "Are there many about?"
"Without a doubt," hooted Hootie. "Several are born each day.
Speaking in rhyme will appease them, but that is the only way. Even
then, sometimes your words will annoy them and then they will eat you
if you do not avoid them." "Oh, bother," pouted Pooh. "How am I to avoid them," he asked with a sigh. "Will you come with me Hootie and help me get by?"
"Why of course," hooted Hootie. "I'd find it my obligatory duty."
"Who is this Jolly Oligist of whom you spy," inquired Hootie.
"I find it hard to believe he could have eluded my ever watchful eye." "Oh he is near," answered Pooh, "and find him I will. For he
has stolen all the whimsy from under the Hundred Acre Hill. He came in
the night, and left before dawn. He took it all. Our hill of whimsy is
"Did I hear you correctly," asked the wise Hootie Owl. "Did you say whimsy?"
"I think so," stammered Pooh. "I cannot be sure. Oh yes, silly me, I did say whimsy. Pardon me, my mind sometimes gets dimsy."
something," hooted Hootie, "we need in this wood. We have wit. We have
rhyme. We are not short on meter. But whimsy we are shy of, could you
spare us a litre?"
"Oligist has taken much, much more than that to his lair,"
answered Pooh. "I will gladly oblige you if you'll come with me there."
"Let us stop by the classroom," hooted Hootie, "and talk with
Miss T. I'm sure when she hears of this good news, she'll most likely cry."
"Can you rhyme," asked Miss T. "I can," answered Pooh. "If given the time."
"Are you learned," asked Miss T. "Are you a veteran of schools? Do you know what an anapest is? Do you follow the rules?"
"An anapest," pondered Pooh. "Is it a rabbit, a piglet, a gopher, or roo?" "Ha! Ha!" laughed little Dancer, "I thought so too."
"Perhaps he thinks, "quipped up little Tige MacOor, "that he's a Shakespeare clone. Maybe he prefers to talk in sonnet form."
"He's cute," whispered little Mayfly. "He makes me all warm."
"What is your name," asked little Canuck7. "Are you Eric Clapton?"
"I think he's of low birth," volunteered proud little Young King. "He isn't nobility. He's what I'd call common."
"He sure ain't no Scot," said wee bonny MacOor, " or he'd be wearing a kilt."
"Whoops," said Nichelangelo, stooping down at his desk. "My colorful painter's palette just spilt."
"Mmmmm," said Rosie, "he's got potential."
"He's got a quick wit," said young Dark Dane, "and that is essential."
"His name is Pooh Bear," hooted Hootie Owl. "He brings us a new
weapon to aid us in battle. We can now appease the limericks aided with
whimsy in our prattle."
"Did I hear you correctly," exclaimed Miss T. "Whimsy? Goodness! Class, I must go to the restroom! I'll be back directly." "Yes," explained Pooh. "I can provide you with whimsy, just as
Master Hootie reported. But first I must pursue the Jolly Oligist, for
he has it all hoarded."
"I'll come along with you," volunteered young Six Shooter. "I carry twin pistols and am loaded for bear."
"You will need me as a lookout," volunteered young Besure.
"You will require the added muscle," said that wee poet Blunder, "of Petra, of myself, and that big dashing Blonde Swede."
"We will all assist you," said little Eric Limm. "I deplore anyone who has more whimsy than they need."
"Then follow me," shouted Pooh, in his silly Pooh voice. "We'll
find the Oligist, and spank him with branches, and pelt him with
"Hear! Hear!" Shouted each of those steadfast young poets.
"We'll soon be nursing newborne limericks with gruel made from the
powder of his bones."
"Not I," protested the proud poet Young King. "I'll not call
him my equal, he's a silly bear indeed.. I'll not follow him anywhere.
I am a prince. I do not follow. It is my place to lead."
Deep in the
thicket of Kristen's Wild Wood, Miss T. suddenly exclaimed: "Class,
there's something I should mention. We forgot little Johnny Bravo,
locked away in detention."
"It serves him right," hooted Hootie owl, "for the foul
language he's used. Out here he'd only get eaten by one of the
limericks he's abused."
"Over there," pointed Pooh, "lies the Oligist's lair. Yes,
indeedy," said he, "that is his den. He and the whimsy are most likely
holed up within."
"Quick fellows," suggested Pooh. "Everyone rush inside! And
get ready to fight! Here, I'll lock the door while someone finds the
light. Fast! Light a candle, so we can all see. Tee Hee Hee!"
"What is this," hooted Hootie. "I don't like this at all. Where is the whimsy, Master Pooh?"
"Oh, that," said Pooh Bear. "It is right here by the wall."
"But that is only a balloon," observed Miss T, if I'm not mistaken."
"You are not mistaken," answered Pooh. "To me it is whimsy. To others it's a balloon, I reckon."
"And where is the Jolly Oligist," asked the bonny Tige MacOor. "Is he part of your whimsy too.'
"Oh no. He is there," motioned Pooh bear, "right next to your shoe."
"Egad!" Exclaimed everyone, as they saw what lay in the sand.
Bonnie Tige MacOor stooped and arose with a polished skull in his hand.
"Alas! Poor Yorik!" Quote he, as he knelt on one knee.
"This is looking much worse to me," hooted Hootie.
"You've locked us in," chuckled Dancer. "You have given us a
scare. But I am not fooled. Tonight is Halloween. You silly Pooh bear."
"Tee hee hee!" Chuckled Pooh. You have got me there. I did
trick you guys. But it doesn't end here. I am not who you think. I am
not Pooh Bear." Pooh then unzipped the front of his costume and out stepped .....
"This has been well worth admission. But where is silly Ol' Pooh. Is he hiding inside another room?" "Oh no!" Smiled Tigger. I had Ol' Pooh over for lunch months ago. Where do you think I got this wonderful costume?" "Tee Hee Hee!"
"I brought the tricks. You guys have brung the treats."
"Bonnie Tige," resumed Tigger, "how 'bouts you play on them pipes while me and the other guests EATS!" "RIPPP! TEARRR! GOBBLE! GOBBLE! CRUSH! CHOP! CHOMP!"