Sometimes I jump up and down shouting, “Rice!” It frightens the birds and scatters the mice. Why do I do this? I know it’s not nice. Oh well, time to stand on my head screaming, “Ice!”
Berry productive is the fuzzletong tree. Its berries are magic as magic can be. To unfreeze the witch without any hitch a handful is rubbed on her face, not her knee.
The Reverend Dodgson’s introduction to his Hiawatha satire, with the matching of the metre used by Henry in his poem, in his long Longfellow poem: In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. Any fairly practised writer, with the […]
The Squirrels of Horn chitter away through half of the night and all of the day. Don’t ask them why. They’ll only reply, ‘Chittery chit chit chit chittery chay.’
Often there is more than one version of a folk tale or a fairy tale. Let’s have a look at Little Red Riding-Hood, for instance. In the version found in Andrew Lang’s Blue Fairy Book, bottom row up there, third from the right, the final sentence of the story, coming directly on the heels of […]