A Frisky Lamb
A frisky lamb
And a frisky child
Playing their pranks
In a cowslip meadow:
The sky all blue
And the air all mild
And the fields all sun
And the lanes half shadow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Wee Wee Husband
Wee wee husband,
Give me some money,
I have no comfits,
And I have no honey.
Wee wee wifie,
I have no money,
Milk, nor meat, nor bread to eat,
Comfits, nor honey.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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What Does The Bee Do?
What does the bee do?
Bring home honey.
And what does Father do?
Bring home money.
And what does Mother do?
Lay out the money.
And what does baby do?
Eat up the honey.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Under The Ivy Bush
Under the ivy bush
One sits sighing,
And under the willow tree
One sits crying: -
Under the ivy bush
Cease from your sighing,
But under the willow-tree
Lie down a-dying.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A House Of Cards
A house of cards
Is neat and small:
Shake the table,
It must fall.
Find the Court cards
One by one;
Raise it, roof it, -
Now it's done: -
Shake the table!
That's the fun.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Our Little Baby Fell Asleep
Our little baby fell asleep,
And may not wake again
For days and days, and weeks and weeks;
But then he'll wake again,
And come with his own pretty look,
And kiss Mamma again.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A City Plum Is Not A Plum
A city plum is not a plum;
A dumb-bell is no bell, though dumb;
A party rat is not a rat;
A sailor's cat is not a cat;
A soldier's frog is not a frog;
A captain's log is not a log.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Love Me - I Love You
Love me - I love you,
Love me, my baby;
Sing it high, sing it low,
Sing it as may be.
Mother's arms under you,
Her eyes above you;
Sing it high, sing it low,
Love me - I love you.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Dead In The Cold, A Song-Singing Thrush
Dead in the cold, a song-singing thrush,
Dead at the foot of a snowberry bush, -
Weave him a coffin of rush,
Dig him a grave where the soft mosses grow,
Raise him a tombstone of snow.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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If A Pig Wore A Wig
If a pig wore a wig,
What could we say?
Treat him as a gentleman,
And say ‘Good day.’
If his tail chanced to fail,
What could we do? -
Send him to the tailoress
To get one new.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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