This book is written for people who like to read to young people, and young people who like to read.
Update, June 20, 2021: the third edition is now out, and the print version is available.
I admit to being worn-out, but I'm toying with a purely Australian collection.
So whence comes the name?
Easy. There's a nod to a certain book about felines, but
I'm a grandpa who writes, and for half a century, I have maintained, not a commonplace book, but
commonplace files that I can skim through, looking for some half-remembered line that I can use as an
epigraph. This is the quotable, recognisable text that works well in epigraphs, but which I needed to
have in reach at short notice, in meticulously correct text, copyright-checked. It was a practical
solution to a practical problem.
Now, as I begin, slowly, ever so slowly, to approach advanced middle age, it's time to share. This collection
contains about 13% of my verse files, but it contains all those important bits. If my grandkids reach the age of
18, recognising this much, I'll be happy. And if my brief notes prompt them to delve deeper, that will be excellent.
Here are some of the lines you may remember, though a few may have you scratching your head, or rushing off to order
the book: rest assured that the answers are all there, though a few of my choices aren't opening lines...have a go,
and see how many of these you can recall in full. And do you know the one on the right, below?
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread - and Thou
A rose-red city half as old as time.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
And did those feet in ancient time
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
Billy, in one of his nice new sashes,
But — of course you're bound to face them when your pants begin to go.
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.
By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,
By the shore of Gitchie Gumee,
Come live with me, and be my love,
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
God made the wicked Grocer
Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Hey there! Hoop-la! The circus is in town!
Ho, for the Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee!
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
'I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.'
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he:
I think that I shall never see
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
In summertime on Bredon
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
It is Christmas Day in the workhouse, and the cold, bare walls are bright
It was built of bark and poles, and the roof was full of holes
It was six men of Indostan
It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
King David and King Solomon
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
My candle burns at both ends;
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
Oh, who would paint a goldfield,
On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
Patter, patter ... Boolcoolatta,
Seated one day at the organ,
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
She walks in beauty like the night
Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair;
Some moment when the moon was blood
Swans sing before they die - 'twere no bad thing
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
The boy stood on the burning deck,
The horse and mule live thirty years,
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
The Pobble who has no toes
There was a little girl, who had a little curl
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
They shut the road through the woods
They were demons, were the members of the Geebung Polo Club.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
Triantiwontigongolope.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
Under the wide and starry sky
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,
"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop:
With fingers weary and worn,
"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
How did you go? If you got less than 65, you need this book, and you need a kid to
read it to. This book is for reading aloud.
Why is it for sale?
Basically, I set out to produce a very limited run for family only, and one of my
blood-relative grandchildren suggested sharing more widely. I take a broad view of
grandchildren, and will subvert any child that stands still.
All of the content is public domain, except for a few pieces by Duncan Bain, whose
work I admire, and who is a close friend. My aim is to leave a world where kids who
want to are free to revel in metre and rhyme.
