“Year of the Pig” by Jan Darling

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I’m a Pig! I’m a Pig! I am patient and kind

I’m not the smartest but I don’t mind.

I’m trustworthy, indulgent, with a big sense of humour

If they say I’m lazy, it’s only a rumour.


Pigs born at morning are moody but reckless

They leap before looking, sometimes they’re feckless.

Pigs born in the noon, now they fight with heart

As long as they’re helped a bit at the start.


Pigs born at night, they’re full of fight

They alone know how to do everything right.

But these traits can be varied according to age

They’re only true at a certain stage.


Boy Pigs for instance are low-key and trusting

Easily fooled, they may just take a dusting.

Girl pigs are gentle and mostly seek peace

They’re given to kindness and not to caprice.


Luck and good fortune may bless the Pig

With honest sincerity showing up big

Understanding and giving, never spiteful or mean

The Pig is a really fine Human Bein’!

“Little Hands” by Toni Newell

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Little Hands


Little hands,

Go everywhere,

From patting dogs,

To combing hair.

They draw and paint,

Or play with dolls,

Or little cars,

Or basket balls.

They hold ice-cream,

And lots of fruit,

Touch door knobs,

And soil to boot.

So little hands,

Need lots of care,

Plenty of washing,

So bad things aren’t shared

“A Friendship Clock” by Celia Berrell

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“Got to stop. Got to stop

and blow the dandelion clock.”

That’s what my best friend used to say.

And then we’d blow that clock away.


She’s moved-on to another town.

I’m left alone and feeling down.

I still think of the fun we had.

Our friendship made me very glad.


The dandelion’s flower-head

all golden-yellow, sunshine-fed

is made of many small florets

arranged all neatly in a set.


When fertilised by bugs and bees

each little flower forms a seed.

They all hold hands with hairy arms.

As though they make a friendship charm.


And so I play this little game.

Remembering my best friend’s name.

“Got to stop. Got to stop

and blow the dandelion clock.”

“BooBoobook Owl” by Katherine Gallagher

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BooBoobook Owl


BooBookook Owl

doesn’t think twice

if she suddenly feels like

a meal of mice.


When she’s swooping about

you only feel the breeze

as she glides in and out

from her hollow in the trees.


Boobook Boobook

she calls through the night . . .

Boobook boobook


until it gets light.


© Katherine Gallagher


“Dinosaur Dreams” by Toni Newell




I thought I saw a dinosaur,

Laying by a nest,

And in the nest were several eggs,

I counted six at best.

And next to it there were sat,

A young girl and a boy,

Both of whom were counting them,

Whilst looking full of joy.

The dinosaur didn’t move,

Looked on in quiet calm,

The children felt quite safe,

They wouldn’t come to harm.

But looking a little closer,

It seemed to make no sense,

Surely if they had been eggs,

She’d be nesting in her defence.

And then it did occur to me,

That they’d already hatched,

And it was only but a dream,

From a photo my mind had snatched