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• Over Size Children's Book " The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes " by Leroy F. Jackson
• Leroy F. Jackson | LibraryThing
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• The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes

Contributor Wright, Blanche Fisher,. Summary A collection of nursery rhymes. Language eng.

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• The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes by Leroy F. Jackson, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®.

Edition edition. Extent 96 pages. Isbn Library Locations Map Details. Westfield Washington Public Library Borrow it. Hoover St. Library Links. Embed Experimental. Layout options: Carousel Grid List Card. Include data citation:. Copy to clipboard Close. Cite Data - Experimental. Structured data from the Bibframe namespace is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4. One bright summer night He sailed out of sight, And, hooting like Lucifer, hung in delight His three-cornered hat on the moon.

You're almost out of breath. He treated the preacher And Sunday-school teacher, And gave a policeman some. And what became of the gander? He went and got tipsy on blackberry juice, And that was the end of the gander. When the whale grew large and fat He ate the baron's brindle cat.

But pussy, once inside the whale, Began to tickle with her tail. This the monster could not stand, And spewed her out upon dry land. That night, when all was fine as silk And she had supped her bread and milk, She grinned and told old Batteroff How she got the whale to cough. Go run and ask your mother For some kind of cake or other, And a bit of cotton wadding For your ball-suit.

Get your bobber and a bat, And be back as quick as scat, For we've got to go to Garry On the toot-toot. But maybe after all she didn't Understand him right, For he wasn't back again Till the middle of the night. And what did little Bobbin see 'Way down at Doubbledoon? He saw a crazy Arab Throwing bubbles at the moon, A monkey making faces And a rabbit in a rage, A parrot shouting "Murder! At last a yellow jumping-jack, A camel, and a coon, Chased poor little Bobbin All the way from Doubbledoon.

This is what they had for dinner, For I peeked to see: Apple seeds and beetle finner, And for drink the little sinner Gave them tansy tea. But there came an awful clatter From that elder tree, When he served them on a platter Hopper-hash and brick-dust batter Trimmed with celery! All the folks were hale and hearty, Happy as could be; And that little black-eyed smarty Left out of his funny party Only you and me.

I've got a gun that used to shoot, Another one that squirts, I've got some horehound candy And a pair of woolen shirts. I've got a little rubber ball They use for playing golf, And mamma thinks that's maybe why I've got the whooping-cough.

And offered a swallow To all who would follow The call of his trumpet and drum. It's good, I am told, For a cough or a cold; It's good for a pain in your thumb. In three small ships he carried his crew, And none of the three were mates. He found a land in the western seas, And Indians galore, With jabbering parrots in the trees, And sharks along the shore.

Now this is the tale Columbus told, And most of the tale is true, How he crossed the seas, a sailor bold, In fourteen-ninety-two. Well, don't you get in the way of him. He eats lions for breakfast And leopards for lunch, And gobbles them down With one terrible crunch. He could mix a whole city All up in a mess, He could drink up a sea Or an ocean, I guess.

You'd better be watching for Terrible Tim, And run when you first get your peepers on him. What's a fellow to do If he hasn't a mind? Don't think 'cause I cackle I always must lay.

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Leave your little sisters And your loving aunts at home. Bring a bit of bailing wire, A pocketful of nails, And half a dozen wiener-wursts For every man that sails. Tell Terry Tagg, when you go by, Be sure to bring his dog. All aboard for Bombay On a floating cedar log! There's water in the ocean, And water in the skies, And when a fellow blubbers He gets water in his eyes. But in the Barca desert Where the hippodoodles play, The water in the rivers Just dries up and blows away.

I've given her water and clover, And all of the apples I've got; But she won't eat a thing that I give her, And never drinks even a sup, For they've taken her baby to market And some one has eaten it up. I'd just like to go to the city And cut them all up into halves And feed them to sharks and to lions-- Those people that eat little calves. I'll never let them wander out Or ride with me to town; They'll come a-running when I shout And tremble when I frown. I'll have some men in soldier tents, A pirate and his mate, And wildcats all around the fence, And mad dogs on the gate.

Little Tommy Taylor Is a rinky-tattle too. The sun will surely catch you, and scorch you with his fire. But they found out that their mother wasn't quite the dunce they thought her, The sun bobbed up--remember this, my little son and daughter-- And turned those twenty snowflakes into twenty drops of water. And Speckle is down by the willow Washing her chicks in the lake, While old Daddy Cockle is lying Abed with a bad toothache. But Tatters took the garden hose And washed them all away. For he's a king with lots of power And awful, awful fierce, He kills a pirate every hour And washes in his tears.

He rides a charger ten feet high, A dashing, dappled gray; Has ginger pop and lemon pie For breakfast every day. So get a royal canopy, The finest ever seen, And whiskers for his majesty, And tresses for the queen. Her words are wise, And she greets the skies With a voice like a steamer gong: "If you harbor your wealth And keep your health, You'll always be rich and strong. The sideboard is tipsy, the table is mad, The chairs have lost all the sense that they had.

So hipperty, clickerty, clackerty, bang, Get in a corner as fast as you can! A sailor gave his sonny Nearly half a pint of money And told him he should buy a suit of clothes; But he saw a pretty maiden With all kinds of posies laden, And he gave her all his money for a rose.

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Then the sailor gave his sonny Nearly half a pint of money To buy a little garden and a house; But he found him the next day, In a shop on Yesler Way, A-buying cheese and crackers for a mouse. It's made out of iron and hinges and screws, And filled up with shakers, and dampers, and flues. It's not very long and it's not very wide; It's got black'ning on top and ashes inside. You've seen his cradle, maybe, And maybe you've heard him cry. Most of the time he's sleeping, Rolled up in a big white cloud, But when he's awake and hungry He bellows awfully loud.

And when he's crying, sometimes You can hear his teardrops fall With a patter, patter, patter, Against the garden wall. But when he's madder'n mischief, He rolls, and growls, and spits, And kicks the clouds all forty ways, And gives the weather fits. Then tears come down in bucketfuls, And children dance for joy, Till the sun comes out and soundly spanks Her Thunder Baby Boy. But he found the water wet, Fishes got into his net, So he pulled his boat to shore And vowed he'd sail the seas no more.

Goodness sake! And when she called him tenderly He didn't want to come; It took her over half an hour To get the rascal home. She washed him well with shaving-soap, Pumice stone and lye, She showered him and she scoured him And she hung him up to dry.

The Peter Patter Book of Nursery Rhymes

And now he sits there quite serene, The sweetest poodle ever seen. Sticks and stones! I chased a thief through twenty zones. I found his hat On Ararat, And hurried on as quick as scat. In a day or two I found his shoe Where he had sailed for Timbuktu. I met the goat That ate his coat Upon the road to Terre Haute. At last all worn And quite forlorn I chased him up the Matterhorn. He told about the awful rain That fell in Noah's day, And one by one the happy smiles Began to fade away.

In half an hour the people all Put on their rubber coats, And when he finished everyone Was out and building boats. He carried off the poker And dressed it up from head to heel In clover-tops and orange-peel And fed it bones and barley meal. Poor old Rusty Poker! With shoes on his feet, and a crown on his head-- Oh, tune up your rusty old fiddle!