Saskatchewan and Taiwan

Sound very much the same

But I can’t remember where they are

By similarities in name!

Russia and Prussia sound the same.

The differences aren’t very far.

But just because they sound the name,

Doesn’t mean I know where they are!

Messapotamia and Babylonia

Are ancient territories

But I can’t remember if they’re real

Or just ancient stories!!!

Liberia and Siberia

Have sounds that are synonymous

But, as far as I’m concerned,

Their locations are anonymous.

I’m terrible in geography.

I’m a real catastrophe.

I don’t know gravity from ground,

But I do know the world is round!!!

Squirm, worm.

Get to your hole.

Or you’ll be worm soup

In a spider’s soup bowl!

He’ll ensnare you in silken webs,

And he’ll bring you to his lair,

And you won’t have much of a chance

If he even gets you up there!

So get into your hole

And lock it up tight

And stay down there ‘til he gives up…

If…it…takes…all…night!

This spider’s very clever.

He’s ate many other worms.

But he’s never seen a worm like you

That twists, wiggles and squirms.

I’m sure you’ll live another winter

If the safest route you pick

But if you go out and there he is

Then get right back in and quick!

Oh, gilded green one, eyes of red,

Is it true, as often said,

That if a bird was to see your eyes,

He would be hypnotized?

Oh, evil cobra, heartless one,

You are the cruelest, under the sun.

I will not look at you,

Or I would be drawn, like paper to glue.

I stood upon the field,

Wind lancing through my chestnut hair,

And through dawn’s shine, I saw a bird

On a branch in the November air.

I fit an arrow to my bow –

An evil thought I had –

And no-one was there to stop me

When I stood in the field as a lad.

A stirring of the good within,

Rose and spake me "nay",

But whether I heard its venerable voice,

That I cannot say.

The feather from my fingers slipped –

I thought the bird was dead –

Swift and steady, the arrow flew!

But, through a miracle, just grazed its head.

The summer’s slowly waning –

The sun’s gone sooner from the sky –

And I watch the waning summer

With a tear in my eye.

Then comes mighty winter

When the north wind blows.

Swirling, twirling, curling,

Come the winter snows.

Then comes quiet spring,

When birds come from the south

And exclamations of joy

Fly from every mouth.

Summer comes on gossamer wings

And spreads its joyous sun

And winter days are soon forgotten

By every beast and man.

Then autumn comes

When leaves change clothes

And the mighty north wind

Lightly, but still, blows.