A SONG FOR ALL THE CHILDREN
                              WHO ARE SAILORS

                           As the garden fish dove

                           to the depth of the flowers

                           we rowed our brown boat

                           for hours and hours.

                           Way up on the top

                           where the flowers scraped the sky

                           we pitched and we sang

                           as time sailed by.

                           All the worms and the crickets

                           were sure that we were mad.

                           "Why should they be so merry

                           when the garden is sad?"

                           So they grumbled to each other

                           in the shadows which were cast

                           by the many colored flowers

                           as the sun slipped past.

                           So we sang our secret

                           up on the sea so bright

                           as our brown boat pitched

                           gladly in the light.

                           "How can we not be happy?,"

                           I said to brother Sam,

                           "Because you sail in golden light

                           and where you are, I am."

                           "Quite right you are you rascal!"

                           my brother said to me -

                           then took a tumble on the deck

                           and fell into the sea.

                            SMALL LITTLE VERSES

                     Old Mrs. Turnip was busy all the day

                     Washing her cats, none of them could play. 

                     29 cats in a washing machine,

                     And they'll be there till they are clean.

                     A Puppy and a Platypus

                     Once danced upon a table,

                     The puppy jumped the centerpiece

                     But the Platypus wasn't able;

                     So splash went he in a bright bowl of jello

                     Where he dove and he swam

                     like a jolly old fellow.

                         THE SUN GOES UP

                          I love the sun

                          because the sun goes up.

                          The moon goes up too

                          like a wild yellow balloon.

                          The stars are up

                          and that is the way the day goes

                          and the night goes, 

                          always.

                          If God did not choose,

                          trees could grow parrots

                          or tigers by their tails,

                          but trees grow yellow fruit

                          and green and red and orange:

                          round and long and soft and sweet.

                          And I am happy...

                          If God did not choose,

                          rivers could flow up

                          but then the fish would get tired

                          having to swim hard down

                          to get down;

                          so I think God loves fishes.

                          If God did not choose,

                          snow might be red or blue

                          but the choice was white;

                          I think it's right.               

                          What if the sky were pink like a flamingo

                          and the clouds bright green spiny things

                          like sea urchins?

                          But God chose blue for the sky

                          and the clouds he chose to be fluffy and white.

                          Again, I think his choice was right!

                          Sometimes things hurt.

                          Sometimes things seem all wrong,

                          and people or puppies or favorite things

                          go away from us

                          to never be seen again -

                          unless God chooses...

                          But then, there is a bright heaven

                          and those Angels with God's wings...

                          Ah...I love God,

                          He is full of surprises,

                          and I am happy

                          because the sun goes up! 

                        TO THE FAT PAMPERED CAT
       
                         OF OUR MODERN DREAMS               

                Great golden cat, leaping out of the starry night

               with the mud of the moon upon your feet,

               prancing in the starlight glitters which spill

               as a trail from your twitching tail.

               Proud saucy cat. Pampered cat of our dreams.

               How sure of yourself. You sashay into the face

               of the sleepy Sun who yawns himself awake

               when he feels the soft fur of your bewitching,

               twitching tail under his yellow chin.

               Amiable Sun, happy lamb-like Sun,

               eats his breakfast with His slippers on

               and feeds you a little saucer

               of butter and cream.

               And you, cat, shamelessly prancing about

               with mud on your feet,

               soiling his braided rug.

                 A SONG FOR POOR GOPHERS AND ME

                         Once I caught a fishy

                         but wouldn't let it go

                         for after I had caught it

                         it nipped me on the toe.

                         I took it to my potty

                         and there I flushed it down,

                         and now that fishy's nipping toes

                         of gophers under ground.

                     BIP BOPPITY ROBIN CONFRONTS A FINE FLEA

                     Tiptabita Rabbit

                     came hopping from Gore,

                     banged on Miss Bobbity Robin's red door;

                     down through the chimney

                     a swallow went...Bam!

                     Tiptabita Rabbit got frightened and ran.

                     Bip Boppity Robin came hopping to see

                     who'd banged on the door, 'twas only a flea

                     who sat on her mat bing banging a drum,

                     (he was left in the dust when the rabbit had run).

                     He banged on his drum

                     then he bing banged some more,

                     (he'd had a long ride on that rabbit from Gore);

                     then Bippity Robbin as swift as can be

                     got her flea cracker and cracked him for tea.

                         REMEMBRANCE OF AN ALLIGATOR LIZARD

                          I hunted for a lizard

                         out on the desert sands,

                         I saw him slith and skitter,

                         he darted through my hands;

                         but I was glad I missed him,

                         for he turned and hissed at me,

                         he looked like a terrible monster -

                         for I was only three.

                     ABOUT THE WOEFUL ATTRACTION

                            OF SORDID THINGS

                     Pretty portly Polly,

                     the little pig with wings,

                     took a flight across the town

                     to rummage through the things

                     out in the grocer's garbage

                     in the alley way,

                     she found some rotting broccoli

                     and she's still there today! 

                         THE COW IS SUCH AN ANIMAL

                          The cow is such an animal

                          as man has never seen,

                          giving milk and cottage cheese,

                          yogurt, cheese and cream.

                          Nothing ever troubles her,

                          she wanders like a cloud

                          and seems content when she's alone,

                          content when in a crowd.

                          The wind and rain may lash on her,

                          snow pile up on her back

                          but if she has some grass to eat

                          she seems to have no lack.

                          She has the stars at night for friends,

                          the sun and clouds by day

                          and if she's troubled by the gout

                          you'll never hear her say.

                          If I'd a parlor, I'd ask her in

                          to have some tea with me,

                          she'd sit and roll her big brown eyes

                          and tell me how to be

                          content as she. She'd moo and moo

                          and moo some more till I

                          rolled in laughter on the floor,

                      THE BROWN COW'S PARADISICAL
                             PARADIGM SHUFFLE

                           Brown cow, red cow

                           have you any cream?

                           I'll give you five brown pennies

                           for a nickel full of dreams.

                           Dreaming in the meadows,

                           dreaming in the grass,

                           dreaming as you drink from pools

                           that look like looking glass.

                           Brown cow, red cow

                           have you any cream?

                           tinkle now your silver bell

                           and wade out in the stream.

                           Wade to way out yonder

                           and everywhere you go,

                           roll your soft and dreamy eyes

                           to make the whole world glow.

                     ABOUT THE PADDY WAMPUS TREES

                     In a sea beyond the sky

                     lies a land we all believe

                     is the place were none can die

                     nor any mourn or grieve.

                     It is the land where children wander

                     when from earth they're called to go,

                     it's the land of way out yonder

                     were the paddy wampus grow.

                     From each wampus branch is swinging

                     some child so merrily

                     and there are Angels singing

                     round each paddy wampus tree.

                     Stars hang in those branches

                     and twinkle clear and white,

                     the moon's within those leaves

                     with her silken, silver light;

                     the sun burns in those roots

                     to make the trees shine gold

                     and all those trees are young

                     though very, very old.

                     Now you may ask, my children,

                     how I know that this is so,

                     that there's a land out yonder

                     where the paddy wampus grow?

                     Well if you listen closely

                     to the whispers in your heart

                     you'll hear those swings there swinging

                     and feel those angels dart.

                     For God once said that children

                     are like angels over there

                     where the paddy wampus growing

                     pour their peace out in the air.