Thursday, April 30, 2015

Spin Cycle--It's Pure Poetry

So, April is poetry month.  This week the Spin Cycle is about poetry. Namely writing poetry.  I am not a poetry writer.  My mind does not think in those terms.  I will be sharing another favorite poem.  I've already shared The Highwayman and The Cremation of Sam McGee.
I've chosen a poem from James Whitcomb Riley, Little Orphant Annie:
Little Orphant Annie
To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;
The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;
The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones.

ITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you

Now there is a bit of a back story on this.  In my junior year we had an exchange student from Sweden.  He had an accent.  Then he chose this poem to perform for the Speech team. He did it with his accent and with the inflection that is written into the poem.  It was really fun to watch adn listen to him.

Have a great week!


Barb Diana said...

Nice poem. Long time since I've read it!

Mara said...

Never heard or seen this poem before. Is this the origin of Annie the film and other productions?

I feel sorry for the Swedish student. Living in Norway and listening to their accents on occasion is as you say hilarious. Mind you, trying to speak Norwegian will put them in stitches on occasion as well. Talking about lice instead of lights and such things.

Ginny Marie said...

I've never read this poem before! Thanks for sharing it!

Sharon Mayor said...

Hopefully he was cute back in high school.
This poem gave me nightmares back in grade school.


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