Old Superstitions

Cut your nails on Monday, cut them for news;
Cut them on Tuesday, a pair of new shoes;
Cut them on Wednesday, cut them for health;
Cut them on Thursday, cut them for wealth;
Cut them on Friday, cut them for woe;

f Cut them on Saturday, a journey you'll go; T
Cut them on Sunday, you'll cut them for evil,
For all the next week you'll be ruled by the devil.

MARRY Monday, marry for wealth;

Marry Tuesday, marry for health;
Marry Wednesday, the best day of all;"

Marry Thursday, marry for crosses,
Marry Friday, marry for losses,

Marry Saturday, no luck at all.

SNEEZE on a Monday, you sneeze for danger,,..
Sneeze on a Tuesday, you'll kiss a stranger;
Sneeze on a Wednesday, you sneeze for a letter;
Sneeze on a Thursday, for something better;"
Sneeze on a Friday, you sneeze for sorrow;
Sneeze on a Saturday, your sweetheart to-morrow;
Sneeze on a Sunday, your safety seek-

The devil will have you the whole of the week..

MONDAY'S child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for its living,"

And a child that's born on the Sabbath day
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

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J

THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD

DUTCH LULLABY

WYNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—

Sailed on a river of crystal light

Into a sea of dew.

"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"

The old moon asked the three.

"We have come to fish for the herring fish

That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring fish

That lived in that beautiful sea

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—
Never afeard are we!"

So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

Wynken,

Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

To the stars in the twinkling foam,

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Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:

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The Sugar-Plum Tree

'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be;

And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea;

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,
Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while Mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock in the misty sea

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Eugene Field [1850-1895]

THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE

HAVE you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?

'Tis a marvel of great renown!

It blooms on the shore of the Lollypop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;

The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)

That good little children have only to eat

Of that fruit to be happy next day.

When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time To capture the fruit which I sing;

The tree is so tall that no person could climb

To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!

But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below-

And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:

You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.

And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around

From this leafy limb unto that,

And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground-
Hurrah for that chocolate cat!

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes, With stripings of scarlet or gold,

And you carry away of the treasure that rains,

As much as your apron can hold!

So come, little child, cuddle closer to me

In your dainty white nightcap and gown,

And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree

In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

Eugene Field [1850-1895]

WHEN THE SLEEPY MAN COMES

WHEN the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes,

(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)

He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies.

(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)

E

He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun; di

(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)

The stars that he loves he lets out one by one.

(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)

He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)

At the touch of his hand the tired eyelids fall down."
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)

He comes with a murmur of dream in his wings;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)

And whispers of mermaids and wonderful things.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)

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Auld Daddy Darkness

Then the top is a burden, the bugle a bane; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, 'so weary!)

When one would be faring down Dream-a-way, Lane. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!),

When one would be wending in Lullaby Wherry, (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)

To Sleepy Man's Castle, by Comforting Ferry... (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)

Charles G. D. Roberts [1860

AULD DADDY DARKNESS

AULD Daddy Darkness creeps frae his hole,
Black as a blackamoor, blin' as a mole:
Stir the fire till it lowes, let the bairnie sit,
Auld Daddy Darkness is no wantit yit.

See him in the corners hidin' frae the licht,
See him at the window gloomin' at the nicht;
Turn up the gas licht, close the shutters a',
An' Auld Daddy Darkness will flee far awa'.

Awa' to hide the birdie within its cosy nest,

Awa' to lap the wee floocrs on their mither's breast,
Awa' to loosen Gaffer Toil frae his daily ca',
For Auld Daddy Darkness is kindly to a'.

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He comes when we're weary to wean's frae oor waes,
He comes when the bairnies are getting aff their claes;
To cover them sae cosy, an' bring bonnie dreams,
So Auld Daddy Darkness is better than he seems.

Steek yer een, my wee tot, ye'll see Daddy then;
He's in below the bed claes, to cuddle ye he's fain;
Noo nestle to his bosie, sleep and dream yer fill,
Till Wee Davie Daylicht comes keekin' owre the hill.
James Ferguson [18

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