Illustration by Eloise Wilkin

It Was

When he came to tuck me in
And pat me on the head
He tried to guess (he always does)
Who was in my bed.

“Is it Sally?” he guessed first,
“Or her sister Joan?
It’s such a wriggling little girl
It couldn’t be my own.

“It can’t be Mary Ann,” he said,
“Or Deborah because
All their eyes are much too blue—
My goodness me, I think it’s you!”
And he was right. It was.

Dorothy Aldis

Illustration by Rosemary Buehrig

Miss T.

It’s a very odd thing—
As odd as can be—
That whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.
Porridge and apples,
Mince, muffins and mutton,
Jam, junket, jumbles—
Not a rap, not a button
It matters; the moment
They’re out of her plate,
Though shared by Miss Butcher
And sour Mr. Bate;
Tiny and cheerful,
And neat as can be,
Whatever Miss T. eats
Turns into Miss T.

Walter de la Mare

As a child I wondered how poor cheerful Miss T. got stuck at a table with Miss Butcher and Mr. Bate and why they served her buttons. Was Miss T an orphan or was she eating with the servants? It was only as an adult that I wondered about junket and jumbles. Junket is a dessert made with sweetened milk and rennet and maybe some spices or rose water; jumbles are some sort of dense cookie.

I was fascinated by the illustrations for “The Raggedy Man” created by someone with the initials of J.S. I longed for such Wunks creatures to live under one of our pumps, but preferably not the one just outside the back door. I’ve always remember one of the other creatures mentioned in the poem as Squiggleme Squeezes, but they are actually Squidgicum-Squees.

This poem isn’t as well know as some of her others.

Alice’s Supper

Far down in the meadow the wheat grows green,
And the reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;
And this is the song that I hear them sing,
While cheery and loud their voices ring:
” ‘Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
And it is for Alice’s supper, ho! ho!

…

Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
And Maggie kneading the soft white dough,
And this is the song that she’s singing today,
While merry and busy she’s working away:
” ‘Tis the finest dough by near or by far,
And it is for Alic’s supper, ha! ha!”
…

Laura E. Richards

My sister taught me how to sing the following poem. I have sung it to my husband, too. Apparently it has greater appeal to the young.

Antonio

Antonio, Antonio,
Was tired of living alonio.
He thought he would woo
Miss Lissamy Lu,
Miss Lissamy Lucy Molonio.

…

“On, nonio, Antonio!
You’re far too bleak and bonio!
And all that I wish,
You singular fish,
Is that you will quickly begonio.”

Antonio, Antonio,
He uttered a dismal moanio;
Then he ran off and hid
(Or I’m told that he did)
In the Antecatarctical Zonio.

Laura E. Richards

I’ve always wanted to insult someone by calling them a singular fish, but have never had the confidence to do so. I just don’t know if them are fightin’ words or not.

I apologize for not quoting the poems in their entireties, but I’m assuming that the Richard family still holds the copyrights. I also wish I could tell you who did the illustrations, but they weren’t recognized by the publisher.

This is from Childcraft: Storytelling and Other Poems.

A Ballad of China

Her name was Dilliki Dolliki Dinah;
Niece she was to the Empress of China;
Fair she was as a morning of May,
When Hy Kokolorum stole her away.

He was a wizard, I’d have you know;
Wicked as weasels and back as a crow;
Lived in a castle a-top of a hill;
Had a panther whose name was Bill;

Used to ride him around and around,
Creeping and peeping close to the ground;
Working mischief wherever he could;
Nothing about him in any way good!

Richards wrote other nonsense verses which also appeared in this volume. My favorites were Eletelephony and Antonio. She also published several children’s books.

Take a quiz about the poems in this volume of Childcraft.

I was never given the drum set I wanted as a child (or the race car set, but I did have a pony.) I was given an accordion. Who gives a toy accordion? I think this speaks to the level of musical sophistication in my family. At a later holiday I received much better musical toys: a tambourine and a guitar. This meant that when the neighbor kids came over and we played “The Monkeys” I could be any of them except Micky Dolenz (and no one wanted to be Micky Dolenz.) I made a great Davy Jones, I’m sure.

This Childcraft volume of children’s music was probably more often used by parents and scout leaders than by children. My mother never learned any of the lullabies from the book, but I do recognize a few songs from Brownies such as “Oh, Dear! What Can the Matter Be?” and “Billy Boy.”

My suspicions that the encyclopedia publisher was aiming for the Canadian market was confirmed by seeing “O Canada!” under the heading of “Patriotic Songs.” The Christian bias remains with an entire chapter of hymns but “The Hanukkah Song” made it into the “Songs of the Seasons and Festivals” chapter. This was diversity for the 1940s.

It’s too bad that I didn’t remember this volume when I was learning to play clarinet and was looking for sheet music. All I ever had was a hymnal to play from. But my situation was nothing compared what what I read about Johann Sebastian Bach. He had to steal sheet music from behind iron bars and copy it by moonlight so he’d have his own music to play. And no one made me play my clarinet in the attic where poor George Frederick Handel had to play his clavier.

I did practice my clarinet willingly, unlike my sister who had given it up after playing for only a year or so. I even picked up a recorder to mess around with and tapped the keys of a Hammond Organ on occasion. I jumped at the chance to play the bassoon in band and loved the sounds that I could strangle out of that strange instrument. But I was never any good. When I was in high school my band teacher used to slap my thighs to try to keep me on beat. And I was never ever in tune. I loved to play but knew I lacked talent.

It wasn’t until Dad gave me a mountain dulcimer he had made that I learned what people meant when they talked about something being out of tune. I could never tune it, but I rested my hand on the base while a friend tuned it for me and suddenly I understood the concept. I could feel the vibrations changing as she tightened or loosened the strings. I still can’t hear any difference so mostly it sits in the living room as a decoration. Luckily the game “Rock Band” doesn’t require any tuning so I can once again play the toy guitar. I think that’s as musical as I’m ever going to get.

Collecting is a game which the whole family can play. The hobby also is one that often solves the problem for parents, uncles, and aunts, as to what to give you for Christmas or on your birthday.”

Maybe it’s a Midwestern thing, but you know that argument over “duck, duck, gray duck” or “duck, duck, goose” even among people who no longer recall the game to which the name refers? Well I’ve found a couple of other terms to fight over. Childcraft called tic-tac-toe “Tic-Tat-Toe.” I thought it was a typo, but they used the term several times. I’ve heard of “noughts and crosses” before, but never tic-tat-toe. Wikipedia states that another alternative name is “hugs and kisses.” That one I like. Tic-tat-toe sounds like a tattooing accident caused by a nervous artist missing your ankle.

You know the old campfire standby of graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows? Well this book calls that a “somare.” What!? That makes no sense at all. Even Canadians call it a s’more. But since I’ve never liked them (‘smores, not Canadians), I was happy to see an alternative recipe that called for apple slices, a peppermint drop and toasted marshmallow. If I can find peppermint drops I might try it.

I was very glad to see the rules for Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button. I have vivid memories of inserting what I thought of as my prayer palms into the closed palms of others during vacation Bible school, but I had been confused about who was It and who passed the button. Now I won’t be embarrassed in a group of Wii-deprived children sitting in a circle playing party games. I’ll know the proper rules for Passing the Ring, Pussycat’s Whiskers (like Pin the Tail), Forfeits (totally new to me) and Button, Button.

Why is musical chairs also known as “Going to Jerusalem”? Neither Childcraft nor Wikipedia will spill the beans on that. Is it some slanderous secret?

The world has really changed since these articles were written. No parent today is going to suggest that kids make eggnog for each other. Hey kids, it’s a salmonella party! And most parents won’t have these handy scraps lying about for their kids to use to make useful pieces of furniture: orange cases, nail kegs, piano boxes, barrels. And most parents (aside from my wonderful neighbors who let us dig Matchbox car roads in their side yard) won’t let their kids take over landscaping the backyard, although the authors do acknowledge that this should be a family decision.

If the hobby you’ve chosen is playmaking and play acting, then this book has lots of ideas for you. It’s not just about playing house. There’s advice on how to select plays, actors, and music; how to create scenery and costumes; how to print and sell tickets; and how to prepare for playing your character. There are even suggestions for historical pageants and May festivals. Geez, my friends and I obviously had no ambition. We mostly just rode our bikes, sometimes took a pony out for a drive or ride, and argued over who got to get shot and die dramatically when we played cowboys and other cowboys.

I should review the chapter “Cooking Up Fun.” I’m tall enough to use the stove so there are so many recipes I could try. I certainly never learned not to cook vegetables until they are limp. My mother loves them that way. Over two pages are devoted to making a roast beef birthday dinner for your father. I’m not sure if I can find the tartrate or phosphate baking powder for the oatmeal cookie dessert. Luckily my dad isn’t celebrating any more birthdays so I’m off the hook. He always seemed happy with just a pecan pie from Mom anyway.

This entire volume just makes me feel like I never showed any creativity at all as a child. Or I’ve forgotten all the tricks I used to know, like how to make hollyhock flower dolls. I might have made a sock puppet, but I never made my own sweetheart apron or xylophone. Were kids in the 40s and 50s just creative overachievers who are now getting their comeuppance with their lack of computer skills? Previous volumes of Childcraft made me miss the silliness and freedom of childhood. This volume made me feel like a lazy dullard.
MORE on the Childcraft collection:
Poems of Early Childhood
Storytelling and Other Poems
Folk and Fairy Tales
Animal Friends and Adventures
Life in Many Lands
Great Men and Famous Deeds
Exploring the World Around Us
Creative Play and Hobbies
Art for Children