Farmyard Friends
Fleece short and soft,
A lamb wriggles its tail,
Running behind its mother –
Me too! I’m coming!
Yellow fluffballs
Among sturdy bustling chooks.
Rooster struts –
Don’t fret! There’s plenty for all!
Following the trail of leftovers
Roly poly piglets snuffle
In a patchy pink parade.
Eating! Yum!
Noses twitching, ears pricked,
Dogs on duty, tails stiff –
Someone’s coming! Woof!
On an African Train
Far from Australia
I have suddenly discovered
Something glorious and homely
Symbolic and ordinary
Through a train window
In Zambia
To remind me of home
But as well I have found
People who are fascinated
When I point it out
Europeans for whom it is
A thing of romance
Read about, dreamed of
And never seen before
And they are gripped
By my stories
Of sharp cold clear nights
In the Wimmera
Or the dimmer glimpses
From the front yard at home
Where even the bright pall
Of city electricity
Cannot hide its design
The Southern Cross
And friends to share it with
Polly Rules
Polly Puss sat on the fence
sailing with his fate
Until the day the farmer opened up the farmyard gate
The sheep went out
the cows came in
which left Puss quite bemused
addressing those then left to listen
before access was closed
Alpca stretched their long necks longer
their ears pricked to his chatter
‘It matters that the sheep were led;
that cows made all that clatter
This fence is the dividing line
thin as this here whisker’
Pussy plucked to prove his point
which drew a nasty blister
‘But anyway, I rule the roost
from here, this narrow line
So just stay put you woolley herd
alpacas will be fine
You know, the gate was opened
so the tractor could pass through
Those beasts weren’t meant to cross the fence
The system’s gone askew
The grass is never greener
on the other side, you see
Those sheep and cows will end up
on the farmer’s plate for tea.’
A mockery of crockery
“Hey diddle diddle,”
Said the cat to the fiddle,
“The dish ran away with the spoon.”
The fiddle said, “Yo!
“That spoon had to go,
And the dish wasn’t round like the moon.”
“Hey diddle diddle,”
Said the cat to the fiddle,
“What are we going to do?”
The fiddle said, “Man,
“Eat with your hand,
“That dish and spoon belonged in a zoo.”
Julie Cahill
The dish ran away with the spoon
since the cat couldn’t keep up a tune
the dog grabbed the fiddle
chewed it right through the middle
and the cow stayed up on the moon
SPOON LEAVES DISH
I liked him at the time –
thought he was quite dishy
when we ran away.
But no,
I couldn’t stay
with someone so wishy-
washy. His get-up-and-go
got up and went.
And so did I. Ran away again.
This time teamed up with
a right mug.
Too strait-laced for me.
I was bouncing off the walls.
Being a bit of a stirrer
I told him I’d fallen
for a cauldron –
dark, handsome, mysterious….
and I was off again.
But the truth was,
I needed a break.
I missed hanging out
with my friends
and headed
back to the drawer
for a group hug.
THE FARMYARD
The Farmer in the Dell
The farmer in the dell
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The farmer in the dell
The farmer births a child
The farmer births a child
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer births a child
The child gets a cat
The child gets a cat
Hi-ho the derry-o…
The child gets a cat
The farmer milks the goats
The farmer milks the goats
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer milks the goats
The child feeds the goats
The child feeds the goats
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The child feeds the goats
The cat drinks the milk
The cat drinks the milk
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The cat drinks the milk
The farmer plants the seed
The farmer plants the seed
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer plants the seed
The child picks the peas
The child picks the peas
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The child picks the peas
The farmer cooks the peas
The farmer cooks the peas
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer cooks the peas
The farmer and her child
The farmer and her child
Hi-ho the derry-oh
The farmer and her child
©Virginia Lowe
Australian Children’s Poetry 