BALLYMENA FESTIVAL OF MUSIC, SPEECH AND DANCE

SET POEMS FOR 2017 The poems have been taken from the following books:­ Book A 'The Works 4' chosen by Pie Corbett and Gaby Morgan. ISBN 0­330­43644­9 Book B 'Read me 1, A Poem for every day of the year'. ISBN 0­330­37353­6 Book C '100 best poems for children' edited by Roger McGough. ISBN 978­0­141­31058­9

Class 15 Girls P1 ‘My puppy’ by Aileen Fisher It’s funny my puppy knows just how I feel. When I’m happy he’s yappy and squirms like an eel. When I’m grumpy he’s slumpy and stays at my heel. It’s funny my puppy knows such a great deal. From Book B ‘ Read me, a poem for every day of the year’ page 68

Class 16 Girls P2 ‘Silverly’ by Dennis Lee Silverly,

Silverly Over the

Trees The moon drifts

By on a Runaway

Breeze. Dozily,

Dozily, Deep in her

Bed, A little girl

Dreams with the Moon in her

Head.

Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 133

Class 17 Boys P1 ‘Hippopotamus’ by N M Bodecker The hippopotamus ­ how odd ­ loves rolling in the river mud. It makes him neither hale nor ruddy, just lovely hippopotamuddy. Taken from Book B ‘Read me, a poem for every day of the year’ page 153

Class 18 Boys P2 ‘My rocket ship’ by Ian Bland

T Od Ay I Made

A rocket ship That can fly

Me to the stars. It’s made from Plastic bottles

Cardboard boxes And jam jars. Its engine is a

Broken Clock,

That was left under the stairs. The seats are made from socks and shirts

That no one ever wears.

Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 503

Class 19 Girls P3 ‘Cats’ by Eleanor Farjeon Cats sleep Anywhere, Any table, Any chair, Top of piano, Window­ledge, In the middle, On the edge, Open drawer, Empty shoe, Anybody’s Lap will do, Fitted in a cardboard box, In the cupboard With your frocks ­ Anywhere! They don’t care! Cats sleep Anywhere. Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 39

Class 20 Boys P3 ‘The Lion and the Unicorn’ by Anonymous The lion and the unicorn Were fighting for the crown; The lion beat the unicorn All round the town. Some gave them white bread, And some gave them brown; Some gave them plum­cake, And drummed them out of town. Taken from Book B ‘Read me, a poem a day for a year’ page 58

Class 21 Girls P4 ‘I think my teacher is a cowboy’ by John Coldwell It’s not just That she rides to school on a horse And carries a Colt 45 in her handbag. It’s not just The way she walks; Hands hanging over her hips. It’s not just the way she dresses; Stetson hat and spurs on her boots. It’s not just the way she talks; Calling the playground the corral, The Head’s room the Sheriff’s office, The school canteen the chuck wagon, The school bus the stagecoach, The bike shed the livery stable. What gives her away Is when the hometime pips go. She slaps her thigh And cries ‘Yee ha!’ Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 23

Class 22 Girls P5 ‘Magic cat’ by Peter Dixon My mum whilst walking through the door Spilt some magic on the floor. Blobs of this and splots of that but most of it upon the cat. Our cat turned magic, straight away and in the garden went to play where it grew two massive wings and flew around in fancy rings. ‘Oh look!’ cried Mother, pointing high, ‘I didn’t know our cat could fly.’ Then with a dash of Tibby’s tail she turned my mum into a snail! So now she lives beneath a stone and dusts around a different home. And I’m an ant and Dad’s a mouse And Tibby’s living in our house. Taken from Book B ‘Read me, a poem for every day of the year’ page 361

Class 23 Boys P4 ‘Who’s afraid?’ by John Foster Do I have to go haunting tonight? The children might give me a fright. It’s dark in that house. I might meet a mouse. Do I have to go haunting tonight? I don’t like the way they scream out When they see me skulking about. I’d rather stay here, Where there’s nothing to fear. Do I have to go haunting tonight? Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 246

Class 24 Boys P5 ‘November night countdown’ by Moira Andrew Ten fat sausages sizzling in the fire. Nine fiery flames reaching ever higher. Eight jumping jacks leaping on the ground. Seven silver sparklers whirling round and round. Six golden fountains fizzing in the dark. Five red rockets whizzing across the park Four bright Catherine wheels spinning on the gate. Three wide­eyed children allowed out very late. Two proud parents watching all the games. One lonely Guy roasting in the flames. Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 9

Class 25 Girls P6 ‘The secret rhyme for orange’ by Brian Patten Where’s the secret rhyme for Orange? Is it lurking somewhere near? Go and look under the sofa. No? There’s only grey fluff there? Then where is that stupid rhyme? I’ve been looking now for days! Searching through the dictionary Is like searching through a maze. How can a word have no rhyme? It really is not funny, Orange is not a lonely word ­ It’s always seemed quite chummy. You’d think if a word had no rhyme It would be one like ‘Grim’ or ‘Bad, Not a juicy word like Orange ­ It really makes me mad. Look amongst the leaves of the Orange tree. See if the rhyme’s sleeping there Curled up on the branches Without a wordly care. Look in the caverns of the sun, Look on Jupiter and Mars. If they’ve got a rhyme for Orange Bring it back. It’s ours. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 181

Class 26 Girls P7 ‘Quieter than snow’ by Berlie Doherty I went to school a day too soon And couldn’t understand Why silence hung in the yard like sheets Nothing to flap or spin, no creaks Or shocks of voices, only air. And the car park empty of teachers’ cars Only the first September leaves Dropping like paper. No racks of bikes No kicking legs, no fights, No voices, laughter, anything. Yet the door was open. My feet Sucked down the corridor. My reflection Walked with me past the hall. My classroom smelt of nothing. And the silence Rolled like thunder in my ears. At every desk a still child stared at me Teachers walked through walls and back again Cupboard doors swung open, and out crept More silent children, and still more. They tiptoed round me Touched me with ice­cold hands And opened up their mouths with laughter That was Quieter than snow. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 242

Class 27 Boys P6 ‘Homework! Oh, homework!’ by Jack Prelutsky Homework! Oh, homework! I hate you! You stink! I wish I could wash you away in the sink, If only a bomb would explode you to bits. Homework! Oh, homework! You’re giving me fits! I’d rather take baths with a man­eating shark, or wrestle a lion alone in the dark, eat spinach and liver, pet ten porcupines, than tackle the homework my teacher assigns. Homework! Oh, homework! You’re last on my list, I simply can’t see why you even exist, if you just disappeared it would tickle me pink. Homework! Oh, homework! I hate you! You stink! Taken from book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 89

Class 28 Boys P7 ‘Sir’s a secret agent’ by Tony Langham Sir’s a secret agent He’s licensed to thrill At Double­O­Sevening He’s got bags of skill. He’s tall, dark and handsome With a muscular frame Teaching’s his profession But Danger’s his game! He’s cool and he’s calm When he makes a decision He’s a pilot, sky­diver And can teach long division. No mission’s too big No mission’s too small School­kids, mad scientists He takes care of them all. He sorts out the villains The spies and the crooks Then comes back to school And marks all our books! Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 387

Class 29 Junior Choral Speaking EITHER ‘The dragon who ate our school’ by Nick Toczek OR ‘If you don’t put your shoes on’ by Michael Rosen

‘The dragon who ate our school’ by Nick Toczek (Choice 1)

­1­ The day the dragon came to call, She ate the gate, the playground wall And, slate by slate, the roof and all, The staff­room, gym, and entrance hall, And every classroom, big or small So. . . . She’s undeniably great. She’s absolutely cool The dragon who ate The dragon who ate The dragon who ate our school.

­2­ Pupils panicked. Teachers ran. She flew at them with wide wingspan. She slew a few and then began To chew through the lollipop man, Two parked cars and a Transit van. Wow . . . ! She’s undeniably great. She’s absolutely cool The dragon who ate The dragon who ate The dragon who ate our school.

­3­ She bit off the head of the head. She said she was sad he was dead. He bled and he bled and he bled. And as she fed, her chin went red And then she swallowed the cycle shed. Oh . . . She’s undeniably great. She’s absolutely cool, The dragon who ate The dragon who ate The dragon who ate our school (PTO)

­4­ It’s thanks to her that we’ve been freed. We needn’t write. We needn’t read. Me and my mates are all agreed, We’re very pleased with her indeed, So clear the way, let her proceed. Cos . . . She’s undeniably great. She’s absolutely cool, The dragon who ate The dragon who ate The dragon who ate our school.

­5­ There was some stuff she couldn’t eat. A monster forced to face defeat, She spat it out along the street ­ The dinner ladies’ veg and meat And that pink muck they serve for sweet. But . . . She’s undeniably great. She’s absolutely cool, The dragon who ate The dragon who ate The dragon who ate our school. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 76

‘If you don’t put your shoes on before I count fifteen’ by Michael Rosen (Choice 2) If you don’t put your shoes on before I count fifteen Then we won’t go to the woods to climb the chestnut. One But I can’t find them Two I can’t. They’re under the sofa Three No O yes Four five six Stop, they’ve got knots they’ve got knots You should untie the laces when you take your shoes off Seven Will you do one shoe while I do the other then? Eight But that would be cheating.

Please All right It always . . . Nine

It always sticks ­ I’ll use my teeth Ten

It won’t, it won’t It has ­ look.

Eleven I’m not wearing any socks Twelve Stop counting stop counting. Mum where are my socks mum?

They’re in your shoes. Where you left them. I didn’t

Thirteen Oh they’re inside out and upside down and bundled up Fourteen Have you done the knot on the shoe you were . . . Yes Put it on the right foot But socks don’t have right and wrong foot The shoes silly Fourteen and a half

I am I am. Wait. Don’t go to the woods without me Look that’s one shoe already

Fourteen and three quarters There

You haven’t tied the bows yet We could do them on the way there No we won’t, fourteen and seven eighths (PTO)

Help me then, you know I’m not fast at bows Fourteen and fifteen sixteeeeenths A single bow is all right isn’t it Fifteen, we’re off See I did it, didn’t I? Taken from Book C ‘A hundred best poems for children’ page 94

Class 30 Senior Choral Speaking EITHER ‘A smuggler’s song’ by Rudyard Kipling OR ‘Macavity; the mystery cat’ by T S Elliot

‘A smuggler’s song’ by Rudyard Kipling (Choice 1) If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet, Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street. Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie. Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark ­ Brandy for the parson ‘Baccy for the clerk; Laces for a lady, letters for a spy, And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Running round the woodlump if you chance to find Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy­wine, Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use them for your play. Put the brushwood back again ­ and they’ll be gone next day! If you see a stable­door setting open wide; If you see a tired horse lying down inside; If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore; If the lining’s wet and warm ­ don’t you ask no more! If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red, You be careful what you say and mindful what is said. If they call you ‘pretty maid’ and chuck you ‘neath the chin, Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been! Knocks and footsteps round the house ­ whistles after dark ­ You’ve no call for running out till the house­dogs bark. Trusty’s here and Pincher’s here and see how dumb they lie ­ They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by! If you do as you’ve been told, ‘likely there’s a chance, You’ll be given a dainty doll, all the way from France, With a cap of Valenciennes and a velvet hood ­ A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good! Five and twenty ponies Trotting through the dark ­ Brandy for the parson ‘Baccy for the clerk. Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie ­ Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 57

Macavity: the mystery cat by T S Elliot (Choice 2) Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw­ For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law. He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair: For when they reach the scene of crime ­ Macavity’s not there! Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare, And when you reach the scene of crime ­ Macavity’s not there! You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air ­ But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there! Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin; You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed; His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake. Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity. You may meet him in a by­street, you may see him in the square ­ But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there! He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.) And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s. And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel­case is rifled, Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair ­ Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there! And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty’s gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair ­ But it’s useless to investigate ­ Macavity’s not there! And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say: ‘It must have been Macavity!’ ­ but he’s a mile away. You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a­licking of his thumbs, Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums. (PTO)

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity, There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare: At whatever time the deed took place ­MACAVITY WASN’T THERE! And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention MungoJerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime! Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 37

Class 31 Girls and boys under 6 years ‘Snowball’ by Shel Silverstein I made myself a snowball As perfect as could be. I thought I’d keep it as a pet And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas And a pillow for its head. Then last night it ran away, But first ­ it wet the bed. Taken from Book B ‘Read me 1, A poem for every day of the year’ page 438

Class 32 Girls 6 and 7 years ‘Fairy Picnic’ by Peter Dixon Under our kitchen table on the new carpet the fairies have prepared a picnic ­ Tiny little cookies, funny little flakes weeny little biscuits scrummy fairy cakes . . . sarnies small as bee eyes, pretty little buns. It’s called a fairy picnic . . . But my mum says they’re just crumbs! Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 143

Class 33 Boys 6 and 7 years ‘Escape plan’ by Roger Stevens As I, Stegosaurus, stand motionless in the museum I am secretly planning My escape. At noon Tyrannosaurus Rex will cause a diversion by wheeling around the museum’s high ceilings and diving at the curators and museum staff while I quietly slip out of the fire exit and melt into the London crowds. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 85

Class 34 Boys and girls under 8 years ‘Bedtime’ by Allan Ahlberg When I go upstairs to bed, I usually give a loud cough. This is to scare The Monster off. When I come to my room, I usually slam the door right back. This is to squash The Man in Black Who sometimes hides there. Nor do I walk to the bed, But usually run and jump instead. This is to stop The Hand ­ Which is under there all night ­ From grabbing my ankles. Taken from Book B ‘Read me 1, a poem for every day of the year’ page 412

Class 35 Girls 8 years ‘Experiment’ by Danielle Sensier at school we’re doing growing things with cress. sprinkly seeds in plastic pots of cotton wool. Kate’s cress sits up on the sill she gives it water. mine is shut inside the cupboard dark and dry. now her pot has great big clumps of green mine hasn’t. Mrs Martin calls it Science. I call it mean. Taken from Book B ‘Read me 1, a poem for every day of the year’ page 15

Class 36 Girls 9 years ‘Friends’ by Elizabeth Jennings I fear it’s very wrong of me And yet I must admit, When someone offers friendship I want the whole of it. I don’t want everybody else To share my friends with me. At least, I want one special one, Who indisputedly, Likes me much more than all the rest, Who’s always on my side, Who never cares what others say, Who lets me come and hide Within his shadow, in his house ­ It doesn’t matter where ­ Who lets me simply be myself, Who’s always, always there. Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 54

Class 37 Boys 8 and 9 years ‘Daddy fell into the pond’ by Alfred Noyes Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey. We had nothing to do and nothing to say. We were nearing the end of a dismal day. And there seemed to be nothing beyond. Then Daddy fell into the pond! And everyone’s face grew merry and bright, And Timothy danced for sheer delight. ‘Give me the camera, quick, oh quick! He’s crawling out of the duckweed!’ Click! Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee, And doubled up, shaking silently, And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft, And it sounded as if the old drake laughed. Oh, there wasn’t a thing that didn’t respond When Daddy fell into the pond! Taken from Book B ‘Read me 1, a poem for every day of the year’ page 52

Class 38 Girls 10 and 11 years ‘Creative Writing’ by Gervase Phinn My story on Monday began: Mountainous seas crashed on the cliffs, And the desolate land grew wetter. . . The teacher wrote a little note: Remember the capital letter! My poem on Tuesday began: Red tongues of fire, Licked higher and higher From smoking Etna’s top. . . The teacher wrote a little note: Where is your full stop? My story on Wednesday began: Through the lonely, pine­scented wood There twists a hidden path. . . The teacher wrote a little note: Start a paragraph! My poem on Thursday began: The trembling child, Eyes dark and wild Frozen midst the fighting. . . The teacher wrote a little note: Take care ­ untidy writing! My story on Friday began: The boxer bruised and bloody lay, His eye half closed and swollen. . . The teacher wrote a little note: Use a semi­colon! Next Monday my story will begin: Once upon a time. . . Taken from Book B ‘Read me 1, a poem for every day of the year’ page 47

Class 39 Boys 10 and 11 years ‘Dear Mum’ by Brian Patten While you were out A cup went and broke itself on purpose. A crack appeared in that old blue vase your great grandad Got from Mr Ming. Somehow without me even turning on the tap The sink mysteriously overflowed. A strange jam­stain, about the size of my hand, Suddenly appeared on the kitchen wall. I don’t think we’ll ever discover exactly how the cat Managed to turn on the washing machine (Specially from the inside) Or how Sis’s pet rabbit went and mistook The waste­disposal unit for a burrow. I can tell you, I was really scared when, as if by magic, A series of muddy footprints appeared on your new white carpet. Also, I know the canary looks grubby, But it took ages and ages Getting it out of the vacuum cleaner I was being good (honest) But I think the house is haunted so, Knowing you’re going to have a fit, I’ve gone over to Gran’s to lie low for a bit. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 155

Class 40 Girls 12 and 13 years ‘My mother saw a dancing bear’ by Charles Causley My mother saw a dancing bear By the schoolyard, a day in June. The keeper stood with chain and bar And whistle­pipe, and played a tune. And bruin lifted up its head And lifted up its dusty feet, And all the children laughed to see It caper in the summer heat. They watched as for the Queen it died. They watched it march. They watched it halt. They heard the keeper as he cried, ‘Now, roly­poly!’ ‘Somersault!’ And then, my mother said, there came The keeper with a begging­cup The bear with burning coat of fur, Shaming the laughter to a stop. They paid a penny for the dance, But what they saw was not the show; Only, in bruin’s aching eyes, Far­distant forests, and the snow. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 336

Class 41 Boys 12 and 13 years ‘Reading round the class’ by Gervase Phinn On Friday we have reading round the class. Kimberley Bloomer is the best. She sails slowly along the page like a great galleon And everyone looks up and listens. ‘Beautiful reading, Kimberley, dear,’ sighs Mrs Scott, ‘And with such fluency, such feeling. It’s a delight to hear.’ On Friday we have reading round the class. I’m the worst. I stumble and mumble along slowly like a broken­down train And everyone looks up and listens. Then they smile and snigger and whisper behind their hands. ‘Dear me,’ sighs Mrs Scott, ‘rather rusty, Simon. Quite a bit of practice needed, don’t you think? Too much television and football, that’s your trouble, And not enough reading.’ And she wonders why I don’t like books. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 397

Class 42 Girls 14 and 15 years ‘The Magic Show’ by Vernon Scannell After a feast of sausage rolls, Sandwiches of various meats, Jewelled jellies, brimming bowls, Of chocolate ice and other treats, We children played at Blind Man’s Buff, Hide­and­seek, Pin­the­tail­on­Ned, And then ­ when we’d had just enough Of party games ­ we all were led Into another room to see The Magic Show. The wizard held A wand of polished ebony; HIs white­gloved, flickering hands compelled The rapt attention of us all. He conjured from astonished air A living pigeon and a fall Of paper snowflakes; made us stare Bewildered, as a playing card ­ Unlike a leopard ­ changed its spots And disappeared. He placed some starred And satin scarves in silver pots, Withdrew them as plain bits of rag, Then swallowed them before our eyes. But soon we felt attention flag And found delighted, first surprise Had withered like a wintry leaf; And when the tricks were over, we Applauded, yet felt some relief, And left the party willingly. ‘Good night.’ we said, ‘and thank you for The lovely time we’ve had.’ Outside The freezing night was still. We saw Above our heads the slow clouds stride Across the vast, unswallowable skies; White, graceful gestures of the moon, The stars intent and glittering eyes, And, gleaming like a silver spoon,

The frosty path to lead us home. Our breath hung blossoms on unseen Boughs of air as we passed there, And we forgot that we had been Pleased briefly by that conjuror, Could not recall his tricks, or face, Bewitched and awed, as now we were By magic of the commonplace. Taken from Book A ‘The Works 4’ page 434

Class 43 Boys 14 and 15 years ‘The Listeners’ by Walter de la Mare ‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest’s ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the traveller’s head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaf­fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller’s call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, ‘Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head:­ ‘Tell them I came, and no­one answered, That I kept my word,’ he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake; Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone. Taken from Book C ‘100 best poems for children’ page 29