In the Nursery of My Bookhouse, Olive Beaupré Miller
In the Nursery of My Bookhouse
Olive Beaupré Miller
Category: Children
Genres: Nursery rhymes,Fairytale,Fable
Level 1.457:09 h
In the Nursery of My Bookhouse is a 1920 collection of poems from Olive Beaupré Miller. He was an American writer and publisher and created a company to publish and edit her own children's books. The company was called The Book House for Children. In his writing, he had a strict set of standards and tried particularly hard to do right by his young readers in everything from vocabulary to values discussed. Read these poems carefully written to be just right for reading by children in various stages of growth.

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

by
Olive Beaupré Miller

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

The World

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

THE world is so full
of a number of things,
I’m sure we should all
be as happy as kings.

— Robert Louis Stevenson.

Dance, Little Baby

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

DANCE, little Baby, dance up high!
Never mind, Baby, Mother is by.
Crow and caper, caper and crow,
There, little Baby, there you go!
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground.
Backwards and forwards,
round and round,
Dance, little Baby, and Mother will sing
With a merry carol, ding! ding! ding!

See-Saw, Sacaradown

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

SEE-SAW, sacaradown,
Which is the way to London town
One foot up, the other foot down,
Oh, that’s the way to London town.

Rock-A-Bye, Baby

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

ROCK-A-BYE, baby,
thy cradle is green;
Father’s a nobleman,
mother’s a queen;
And Betty’s a lady,
and wears a gold ring.
And Johnny’s a drummer,
and drums for the king.

Pat-A-Cake, Pat-A-Cake

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

PAT-A-CAKE, pat-a-cake, baker’s man!
Bake me a cake as fast as you can;
Prick it, and pat it, and mark it with T,
And put it in the oven for Tommy and me.

How Many Days Has My Baby to Play?

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

HOW many days has my baby to play?
Saturday, Sunday, Monday —
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,
Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

This Little Pig Went to Market

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

THIS little pig went to market;
This little pig stayed at home;
This little pig had a bite to eat.
And this little pig had none;
This little pig cried, “Wee, wee, wee!”
All the way home.

Sleep, Baby, Sleep

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

SLEEP, baby, sleep.
Our cottage vale is deep,
The little lamb is on the green.
With woolly fleece so soft and clean.

Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
Down where the woodbines creep;
Be always like the lamb so mild,
A kind and sweet and gentle child.
Sleep, baby, sleep.

Johnny Shall Have a New Bonnet

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

JOHNNY shall have a new bonnet.
And Johnny shall go to the fair.
And Johnny shall have a blue ribbon
To tie up his bonny brown hair.

Oh, here’s a leg for a stocking.
And here’s a foot for a shoe.
And he has a kiss for his daddy.
And two for his mammy, I trow.

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

Ring Around the Roses

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

RING around the roses,
Pocket full of posies;
Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!
We’re all tumbled down.

Hush, Baby, My Dolly

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

HUSH, baby, my dolly, I pray you don’t cry,
And I’ll give you some bread, and some milk by-and-by,
Or perhaps you like custard, or, maybe, a tart.
Then to either you’re welcome, with all of my heart.

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

Pease-Porridge Hot

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

PEASE-porridge hot, pease-porridge cold.
Pease-porridge in the pot, nine days old.
Some like it hot, some like it cold.
Some like it in the pot, nine days old.

The Sleepy Song

In the Nursery of My Bookhouse

As soon as the fire burns red and low
And the house upstairs is still
She sings me a queer little sleepy song,
Of sheep that go over the hill.