Friday, 22 August 2014

Poetry Corner #11

This week's choice is selected from the BBC publication More Poetry Please.  The reason I chose this poem was because I remembered my grandmother reciting the first couple of verses to me during my childhood.  It brought back memories of school holidays spent in the kitchen possibly baking or just being with her while she prepared dinner with the radio on or not, when she would tell me stories from her past or sing songs and rhymes.  Here is The Pedlar's Caravan by WB Rands.  Wikipedia informs that his full name was William Brighty Rands (24 December 1823 — 23 April 1882).

The Pedlar's Caravan

I wish I lived in a caravan,
With a horse to drive, like the pedlar man!
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes.

His caravan has windows two,
And a chimney of tin that the smoke comes through,
He has a wife, and a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend and delf to sell -
He clashes the basins like a bell.
Tea-trays, baskets, ranged in order,
Plates, with the alphabet round the border.

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is just like a bathing machine;
The world is round, but he can ride,
Rumble, and splash to the other side.
With the pedlar-man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I come home.
All the people would read my book,
Just like the Travels of Captain Cook.

WB Rands

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