The Four Presents

I had four brothers over the sea,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine;
And they each sent a present unto me.
Petrum, Partrum, Paradisi, Tempore,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine.

The first sent a goose without a bone,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine;
The second sent a cherry without a stone,
Petrum, Partrum, Paradisi, Tempore,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine.

The third sent a blanket without a thread,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine;
The fourth sent a book that no man could read,
Petrum, Partrum, Paradisi, Tempore,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine.

When the cherry's in the blossom, there is no stone,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine;
When the goose is in the egg-shell, there is no bone.
Petrum, Partrum, Paradisi, Tempore,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine.

When the wool's on the sheep's back, there's no thread,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine:
When the book's in the press, no man can read
Petrum, Partrum, Paradisi, Tempore,
Perrie, Merrie, Dixi, Domine.

Walter Crane

Walter Crane was an English artist and book illustrator, considered to be one of the most prolific and influential children's book creators of his generation. Born on August 15, 1845, and passing away on March 14, 1915, he was part of the Arts and Crafts movement and is known for his innovative contributions to children's literature. His work often combined art and poetry, aiming to educate and delight young readers.

Walter Crane

Mrs. Bond

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Sur Le Pont D'Avignon

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Natural History

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Vain Jackdaw

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLXXV. Paradoxes.

    My true love lives far from me,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.
    Many a rich present he sends to me,
            Petrum, Partrum, Paradise, Temporie,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.

    He sent me a goose, without a bone;
    He sent me a cherry, without a stone.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    He sent me a Bible, no man could read;
    He sent me a blanket, without a thread.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a goose without a bone?
    How could there be a cherry without a stone?
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a Bible no man could read?
    How could there be a bla...

Unknown

An Alphabet Of Old Friends.

A

A carrion crow sat on an oak,
Watching a tailor shape his cloak.
"Wife, bring me my old bent bow,
That I may shoot yon carrion crow."
The tailor he shot and missed his mark,
And shot his own sow quite through the heart.
"Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon,
For our old sow is in a swoon."

B

Ba, ba, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full.

One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
That cries in the lane.

C

Hen.    Cock, cock, I have la-a-ayed!
Cock. Hen, hen, that's well sa-a-ayed!
Hen.    Although I have to go bare-footed every day-a-ay!
Cock. (Con spirito.) Sell your eggs and buy shoes!
                 ...

Walter Crane

An Alphabet Of Old Friends

A

A carrion crow sat on an oak,
Watching a tailor shape his cloak.
"Wife, bring me my old bent bow,
That I may shoot yon carrion crow."
The tailor he shot and missed his mark,
And shot his own sow quite through the heart.
"Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon,
For our old sow is in a swoon."


B

Ba, ba, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full.
One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
That cries in the lane.


C

Hen.    Cock, cock, I have la-a-ayed!
Cock. Hen, hen, that's well sa-a-ayed!
Hen.    Although I have to go bare-footed every day-a-ay!
Cock. (Con spirito.) Sell your eggs and buy shoes!
Sell your e...

Walter Crane

Seven Times Four. Maternity.

Heigh ho! daisies and buttercups,
Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall!
When the wind wakes how they rock in the grasses,
And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small!
Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses,
Eager to gather them all.

Heigh ho! daisies and buttercups!
Mother shall thread them a daisy chain;
Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow,
That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain;
Sing, "Heart, thou art wide though the house be but narrow" -
Sing once, and sing it again.

Heigh ho! daisies and buttercups,
Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow;
A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters,
And haply one musing doth stand at her prow.
O bonny brown sons, and O sweet little daughters,
Maybe he t...

Jean Ingelow

Old Mother Hubbard

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor Dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor Dog had none.

She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread,
But when she came back,
The poor Dog was dead.

She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin,
But when she came back,
The poor Dog was laughing.

She took a clean dish
To get him some tripe,
But when she came back,
He was smoking a pipe.

She went to the ale-house
To get him some beer,
But when she came back,
The Dog sat in a chair.

She went to the tavern
For white wine and red,
But when she came back,
The Dog stood on his head.

She went to the hatter's,
To buy him a hat,
But when...

Walter Crane

Precious Stones.

An Incident In Modern History.



My Cherrystones! I prize them,
No tongue can tell how much!
Each lady caller eyes them,
And madly longs to touch!
At eve I lift them down, I look
Upon them, and I cry;
Recalling how my Prince 'partook'
(Sweet word!) of cherry-pie!

To me it was an Era
In life, that Dejeuner!
They ate, they sipp'd Madeira
Much in the usual way.
Many a soft item there would be,
No doubt, upon the carte:
But one made life a heaven to me:
It was the cherry-tart.

Lightly the spoonfuls enter'd
That mouth on which the gaze
Of ten fair girls was centred
In rapturous amaze.
Soon that august assemblage clear'd
The dish; and - as they ate -
The stones, all coyly, re-appear'd
On each illust...

Charles Stuart Calverley