The year's at the spring/Fyleman, Rose

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Alms in Autumn

SPINDLE-WOOD, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray,
A little flaming lantern to guide me on my way?
The fairies all have vanished from the meadow and the glen,
And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again.
Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light
To find the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night.

Ash-tree, ash-tree, throw me, if you please,
Throw me down a slender branch of russet-gold keys.
I fear the gates of Fairyland may all be shut so fast
That nothing but your magic keys will ever take me past.
I'll tie them to my girdle, and as I go along
My heart will find a comfort in the tinkle of their song.

Holly-bush, holly-bush, help me in my task,
A pocketful of berries is all the alms I ask:
A pocketful of berries to thread in golden strands
(I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands).
So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright,
They'll set the realms of Fairyland all dancing with delight.


I Don't Like Beetles

I DON'T like beetles, tho' I'm sure they're very good,
I don't like porridge, tho' my Nanna says I should;
I don't like the cistern in the attic where I play,
And the funny noise the bath makes when the water runs away.

I don't like the feeling when my gloves are made of silk,
And that dreadful slimy skinny stuff on top of hot milk;
I don't like tigers, not even in a book,
And, I know it's very naughty, but I don't like Cook!


I WISH I liked rice pudding,
 I wish I were a twin,
I wish some day a real live fairy
 Would just come walking in.

I wish when I'm at table
 My feet would touch the floor,
I wish our pipes would burst next winter,
 Just like they did next door.

I wish that I could whistle
 Real proper grown-up tunes,
I wish they'd let me sweep the chimneys
 On rainy afternoons.

I've got such heaps of wishes,
 I've only said a few;
I wish that I could wake some morning
 And find they'd all come true!