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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by  Ada M. Skinner and Frances Gillespy Wickes

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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three
by Ada Skinner
Third volume of A Child's Own Book of Verse, a three-volume set planned for use during the four primary years. This unusually fine collection of poetry was selected with the child's interests in mind. Includes sound rhymes and jingles to appeal to the ear, descriptive poems to create images in the mind's eye, lullabies and lyrics to warm the heart, and story-telling poems to stir the imagination. Attractively illustrated by Maud and Miska Petersham.  Ages 7-10
130 pages $8.95   





The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht

Wi' muckle faucht an' din;

O, try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,

Your father's comin' in.

They never heed a word I speak;

I try to gi'e a froon,

But aye I hap them up, an' cry,

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid—

He aye sleeps neist the wa',

Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece";

The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks,

They stop awee the soun';

Then draw the blankets up, an' cry,

"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab

Cries oot frae 'neath the claes,

"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at ance—

He's kittlin' wi' his taes."

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks,

He'd bother half the toon;

But aye I hap them up, an' cry,

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."


At length they hear their father's fit,

And as he steeks the door,

They turn their faces to the wa',

While Tam pretends to snore.

"Hae a' the weans been gud?" he asks,

As he pits aff his shoon;

"The bairnies, John, are in their beds,

An' long since cuddled doon."

An' just afore we bed oorsel's,

We look at oor wee lambs;

Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,

An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.

I lift wee Jamie up the bed,

An', as I straik each croon,

I whisper, till my heart fills up,

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,

Wi' mirth that's dear to me;

But sune the big warl's cark an' care

Will quaten doon their glee.

Yet, come what will to ilka ane,

May He who sits aboon

Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld,

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."


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