New Baby

My baby brother makes so much noise
that the Rottweiler next door
phoned up to complain.

My baby brother makes so much noise
that all the big green frogs
came out the drains.

My baby brother makes so much noise
that the rats and the mice
wore headphones.

My baby brother makes so much noise
that I can't ask my mum a question,
so much noise that sometimes

I think of sitting the cat on top of him
in his pretty little cot with all his teddies.
But even the cat is terrified of his cries.

So I have devised a plan. A soundproof room.
A telephone to talk to my mum.
A small lift to recieve food and toys.

Thing is, it will cost a fortune.
The other thing is, the frogs have gone.
It's not bad now. Not that I like him or anything.

--Jackie Kay

Night-Lights

There is no need to light a night-light
On a light night like tonight;
For a night-light's light's a slight light
When the moonlight's white and bright.

--Anon

The Night Will Never Stay

The night will never stay,
The night will still go by,
Though with a million star
You pin it to the sky;
Though you bing it with the blowing wind
And buckle it with the moon,
The night will slip away
Like sorrow or a tune.

--Eleanor Farjeon

The North Wind

Once, when I was young I knew the wind.
I called 'Wi-ind, North Wi-ind'
And it came,
tramping the grass so that it lay flat,
And whinnied high and shrill like a whistle.
I saddled it with imagination,
and bridled it with dreams.

And I got on and we went, and the trees
bowed down in our passing.
I was exhilarated with the speed
and lay down on his neck to keep
balance.
And his snowy mane whipped about my face.
His unshod hoofs made no sound
as he trod on the stars.
His breath made icicles on the houses
we passed
And then he bucked.

--Joanne Lysyk

The North Wind Doth Blow

The north wind doth blow
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?
He'll sit in a bar,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing, poor thing!

The north wind doth blow
And we shall have snow,
And what will the dormouse do then, poor thing?
Roll'd up like a ball,
In his nest snug and small,
He'll sleep till warm weather comes in, poor thing!

The north wind doth blow
And we shall have snow,
And what will the children do then, poor things?
When lessons are done,
They must skip, jump, and run,
Until they have made themselves warm, poor things!

--Anon