Wee Willie Winkie



Wee Willie Winkie.


Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown,
Rapping at the window, crying through the lock,
"Are the children in their beds, for now it's eight o'clock?"

Leonard Brooke

Leonard Leslie Brooke was a British artist and writer, born on September 24, 1862. He is best known for his illustrations for children's books, including classic nursery rhymes and fairy tales such as 'Johnny Crow's Garden' and 'The Golden Goose Book.' His work brought a distinctive elegance and charm to the illustration of children's literature. In addition to his writing, his illustrations have been featured in works by other authors as well. He passed away on May 2, 1940.

Leonard Brooke

Little Bo-Peep

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

Little Miss Muffet

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Leonard Brooke, Simple Poetry

The Lion And The Unicorn

Leonard Brooke, 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.

Little Bo-Peep


Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.



Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still a-fleeting.

Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left all their tails behind 'em.

Leonard Brooke

Goosey, Goosey Gander




Goosey, Goosey Gander.


                Goosey, Goosey Gander,
                Where shall I wander?



                Upstairs, downstairs,
                And in my lady's chamber.



                There I met an old man
                    That would not say his prayers:
                I took him by the left leg,
                    And threw him downstairs.

Leonard Brooke

Baa, Baa, Black Sheep





Baa, Baa, Black Sheep.

                Baa, baa, Black Sheep,
                    Have you any wool?
                Yes, marry, have I,
                    Three bags full:



                One for my Master,
                    And one for my Dame,
                And one for the little boy
                    That lives in the lane!

Leonard Brooke

Willie Wastle.

Tune - "The eight men of Moidart."


I.

    Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
        The spot they call'd it Linkum-doddie.
    Willie was a wabster guid,
        Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie;
    He had a wife was dour and din,
        O Tinkler Madgie was her mither;
    Sic a wife as Willie had,
        I wad nae gie a button for her.

II.

    She has an e'e, she has but ane,
        The cat has twa the very colour;
    Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
        A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller:
    A whiskin' beard about her mou',
        Her nose and chin they threaten ither
    Sic a wife as Willie had,
        I wad nae gie a button for her.

III.

    She's bow hough'd, she's hem shinn...

Robert Burns

There Was A Little Man



There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to the brook
And saw a little duck,
And he shot it right through the head, head, head.





He carried it home
To his old wife Joan,
And bid her a fire for to make, make, make;
To roast the little duck
He had shot in the brook,
And he'd go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake.

Leonard Brooke

Little Croodlin Doo

Ho, pretty bee, did you see my croodlin doo?
Ho, little lamb, is she jinkin' on the lea?
Ho, bonnie fairy, bring my dearie back to me--
Got a lump o' sugar an' a posie for you,
Only bring back my wee, wee croodlin doo!

Why, here you are, my little croodlin doo!
Looked in er cradle, but didn't find you there,
Looked f'r my wee, wee croodlin doo ever'where;
Ben kind lonesome all er day withouten you;
Where you ben, my little wee, wee croodlin doo?

Now you go balow, my little croodlin doo;
Now you go rockaby ever so far,--
Rockaby, rockaby, up to the star
That's winkin' an' blinkin' an' singin' to you
As you go balow, my wee, wee croodlin doo!

Eugene Field