Clinton Scollard (Клинтон Сколлард)

Fraidie-Cat

I shan’t tell you what’s his name:
When we want to play a game,
Always thinks that he’ll be hurt,
Soil his jacket in the dirt,
Tear his trousers, spoil his hat,—
Fraidie-Cat! Fraidie-Cat!

Nothing of the boy in him!
“Dasn’t” try to learn to swim;
Says a cow’ll hook; if she
Looks at him he’ll climb a tree;
“Scart” to death at bee or bat,—
Fraidie-Cat! Fraidie-Cat!

Claims there’re ghosts all snowy white
Wandering around at night
In the attic; wouldn’t go
There for anything, I know;
B’lieve he’d run if you said “Scat!”
Fraidie-Cat! Fraidie-Cat!

1. The Mist and the Sea
2. The Hunter
3. The Tides
4. A Sea Rover
5. Night Song by the Sea

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1274

Последние стихотворения

To English version