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Now We Are Six - A. A. Milne [2]

By Root 86 0
got a pocket-knife—

Not one that cuts.

And, oh! if Father Christmas had loved me at all,

He would have brought a big, red, india-rubber ball!”

King John stood by the window,

And frowned to see below

The happy bands of boys and girls

All playing in the snow.

A while he stood there watching,

And envying them all…

When through the window big and red

There hurtled by his royal head,

And bounced and fell upon the bed,

An india-rubber ball!

AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,

MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL

FOR BRINGING HIM

A BIG, RED,

INDIA-RUBBER

BALL!

Busy


I think I am a Muffin Man. I haven’t got a bell,

I haven’t got the muffin things that muffin people sell.

Perhaps I am a Postman. No, I think I am a Tram.

I’m feeling rather funny and I don’t know what I am—

BUT

Round about

And round about

And round about I go—

All around the table,

The table in the nursery—

Round about

And round about

And round about I go;

I think I am a Traveller escaping from a Bear;

I think I am an Elephant,

Behind another Elephant

Behind another Elephant who isn’t really there….

SO

Round about

And round about

And round about and round about

And round about

And round about

I go.

I think I am a Ticket Man who’s selling tickets—please,

I think I am a Doctor who is visiting a Sneeze;

Perhaps I’m just a Nanny who is walking with a pram

I’m feeling rather funny and I don’t know what I am—

BUT

Round about

And round about

And round about I go—

All around the table,

The table in the nursery—

Round about

And round about

And round about I go:

I think I am a Puppy, so I’m hanging out my tongue;

I think I am a Camel who

Is looking for a Camel who

Is looking for a Camel who is looking for its Young….

SO

Round about

And round about

And round about and round about

And round about

And round about

I go.

Sneezles


Christopher Robin

Had wheezles

And sneezles,

They bundled him

Into

His bed.

They gave him what goes

With a cold in the nose,

And some more for a cold

In the head.

They wondered

If wheezles

Could turn

Into measles,

If sneezles

Would turn

Into mumps;

They examined his chest

For a rash,

And the rest

Of his body for swellings and lumps.

They sent for some doctors

In sneezles

And wheezles

To tell them what ought

To be done.

All sorts of conditions

Of famous physicians

Came hurrying round

At a run.

They all made a note

Of the state of his throat,

They asked if he suffered from thirst;

They asked if the sneezles

Came after the wheezles,

Or if the first sneezle

Came first.

They said, “If you teazle

A sneezle

Or wheezle,

A measle

May easily grow.

But humour or pleazle

The wheezle

Or sneezle,

The measle

Will certainly go.”

They expounded the reazles

For sneezles

And wheezles,

The manner of measles

When new.

They said, “If he freezles

In draughts and in breezles,

Then PHTHEEZLES

May even ensue.”

Christopher Robin

Got up in the morning,

The sneezles had vanished away.

And the look in his eye

Seemed to say to the sky,

“Now, how to amuse them today?”

Binker


Binker—what I call him—is a secret of my own,

And Binker is the reason why I never feel alone.

Playing in the nursery, sitting on the stair,

Whatever I am busy at, Binker will be there.

Oh, Daddy is clever, he’s a clever sort of man,

And Mummy is the best since the world began,

And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan—

But they can’t

See

Binker.

Binker’s always talking, ’cos I’m teaching him to speak:

He sometimes likes to do it in a funny sort of squeak,

And he sometimes likes to do it in a hoodling sort of roar…

And I have to do it for him ’cos his throat is rather sore.

Oh, Daddy is clever, he’s a clever sort of man,

And Mummy knows all that anybody can,

And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan—

But they don’t

Know

Binker.

Binker’s

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