The Holidays
'AH! don't you remember, 'tis almost December,
And soon will the holidays come;
Oh, 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money,
I'll buy me a sword and a drum. '
Thus said little Harry, unwilling to tarry,
Impatient from school to depart;
But we shall discover, this holiday lover
Knew little what was in his heart.
For when on returning, he gave up his learning,
Away from his sums and his books,
Though playthings surrounded, and sweetmeats abounded,
Chagrin still appear'd in his looks.
Though first they delighted, his toys were now slighted,
And thrown away out of his sight;
He spent every morning in stretching and yawning,
Yet went to bed weary at night.
He had not that treasure which really makes pleasure,
(A secret discover'd by few).
You'll take it for granted, more playthings he wanted;
Oh no–it was something to do.
We must have employment to give us enjoyment
And pass the time cheerfully away;
And study and reading give pleasure, exceeding
The pleasures of toys and of play.
To school now returning–to study and learning
With eagerness Harry applied;
He felt no aversion to books or exertion,
Nor yet for the holidays sigh'd.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Related quotes
The Holidays
"Ah! don't you remember, 'tis almost December,
And soon will the holidays come;
Oh, 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money,
I'll buy me a sword and a drum. "
Thus said little Harry, unwilling to tarry,
Impatient from school to depart;
But we shall discover, this holiday lover
Knew little what was in his heart.
For when on returning, he gave up his learning,
Away from his sums and his books,
Though playthings surrounded, and sweetmeats abounded,
Chagrin still appear'd in his looks.
Though first they delighted, his toys were now slighted,
And thrown away out of his sight;
He spent every morning in stretching and yawning,
Yet went to bed weary at night.
He had not that treasure which really makes pleasure,
(A secret discover'd by few).
You'll take it for granted, more playthings he wanted;
Oh naught was something to do.
We must have employment to give us enjoyment
And pass the time cheerfully away;
And study and reading give pleasure, exceeding
The pleasures of toys and of play.
To school now returningto study and learning
With eagerness Harry applied;
He felt no aversion to books or exertion,
Nor yet for the holidays sigh'd.
poem by Jane Taylor
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Boor Play
Every holiday
I was
Happy about...
My school life...
All holidays
Are not festvel
But..
I was happy about
Holidays...
School was very boor...
I was read story books...
Play some gams...
Think some more thing...
So...
I love and love
Holidays...
Today also
I love the holidays
For play...
For write...
For thing...
For love...
So...
My life is not boor...
My job is not boor...
Some time my mood
Boor...
I love and play boor...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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All Of Your Toys (Master Backing Track Take 20)
Once upon a once in awhile
It's hard to remember to smile
Just like all of your toys
Can't you see I don't wanna play
I don't need it
Can't you say you want me to stay
I'll believe it
Just like all of your toys
When all of your playthings someday disappear
Girl, will you be happy, with nothing but tears?
With nothing but tears?
Once upon a once in awhile
It's hard to remember to smile
Just like all of your toys
Don't you ever feel kinda sad
'Cause you're lonely?
Thinkin' 'bout the love that we had?
Are you lonely?
Just like all of your toys
When all of your playthings someday disappear
Girl, will you be happy, with nothing but tears?
With nothing but tears?
Just like all of your toys, I don't wanna be
Just like all of your toys, I don't need to be
Just like all of your, just like all of your toys
Just like all of your toys
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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one day at school, Korea (1801)
I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes
and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
and I really can’t remember the first five letters
or the first five characters
when I lie in bed
and when I am back in class Sir
dragged in by Old Madam Toothless Bong
who always knows where I am wherever I try to run
I can’t remember anything anyone taught me, Sir
most venerable teacher...
I know Sir
all of you have spoken to me
and my dad and my mom
and Old Madam Toothless Bong
and all my friends in class
I must study so I can go to the city and find work
but alI I want to do, Sir
most venerable teacher
is to play and eat and sleep when it is time
and one day, Sir
most venerable teacher
(I know you worry about me)
when I’m grown and big
I’ll make toys and I’ll sell them
and make money for me and my family;
and I’ll make all those sweets and dumplings
and feed my family...
so please, Sir
most venerable teacher
because I don’t like school
and I can’t remember anything
do not worry about me and let me go to the fields now
and I shall grow to be tall as the trees
and as rich as the rice fields...
________________ _________________________
poem based on painting: “Seodang”
(private elementary school in town)
by Kim Hong-do, Danwon (1745-1806)
poem by Raj Arumugam
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School Days
School days, school days
where did the summer go
the beaches, festivals and summer love
time to get the backpacks ready
time to move on to the next grade
see old friends, meet new one
we all hate the first day, but love the last
no more sleeping late
now all we have is due dates
days of no work, now tons of homework
study, study study
all we dread is quizzes, but its good for the wizs
no late hangouts, no more all niter's
now we all worry about fighters
we all dream for summer to come
one by one the days go by
when is there a holiday
School day, school days
give me some school breaks
poem by Michael Peterson
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School School School
Every school has a name but
school is so lame
school what can I say
school im there like every day
school is like a prison, you can nver escape
school is like having a detencion every day
school you tell us to do schoolwork and at home we have to do homework: (
school, school, school
work, work, work
study, study, study
test, test, test it all goes trough my mind
what else should i do
might the principle think; .
My school
My rules
My way or the hard way
This is what i think
Im
Victor Arambula
poem by Somebody U Will Never Know
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Summer holidays
The greatest time of the year
Summer holidays
Much freedom and a pint of beer
Summer holidays
Just do what you want
There’s no need to pant
Just have some fun with your friends
Summer holidays
You got even time to watch the ants
Summer holidays
Don’t ever dare to think of school
Summer holidays have no rules
Meet friends, have fun or just chill out
Buy milk, go swim or eat an ice upon a roundabout
You understand what they are like?
Summer holidays are the time of your life!
poem by Kevin Deckert
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School's out
Well we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin all that noise
'Cause they found new toys
Well we can't salute ya
Can't find a flag
If that don't suit ya
That's a drag
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principles
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not go back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely.
poem by Killed Killa
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Everything Ill Ever Own
(johnny mcrae, bob morrison)
Funny you can hold it in your hand
And never cause youre afraid to play
And you can feel your dreams
Softly slipping through your fingers
Till theyre so far away
Sitting there surrounded
By your many lifes possessions
Feeling so much more than all the load
You realized youve learned one more
Of livings many lessons
Loves worth more than all youll ever own
Chorus:
What Id give if you were here beside me
We could spend forever here alone
Oh what Id give what would I give
Just that moment
Just everything Ill ever own
Funny when I really had it all
I never knew
Cause I just couldnt see
The wealth I hoped to find
Couldnt even hold a candle
To the love you gave to me
Ive taken love for granted
And Ive taken love for pleasure
Never taking time to understand
Now I know that loving you
Has been my greatest treasure
And I let it slip right through my hands
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My dream, I remember, when I went to boarding school, was to have a study all my own, a little nook someplace where nobody could get at me - nobody, like the football coach.
quote by Harry Mathews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Christmas
When I was small I believed in santa claus
Though I knew it was my dad
And I would hang up my stocking at christmas
Open my presents and Id be glad
But the last time I played father christmas
I stood outside a department store
A gang of kids came over and mugged me
And knocked my reindeer to the floor
They said:
Father christmas, give us some money
Dont mess around with those silly toys.
Well beat you up if you dont hand it over
We want your bread so dont make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys
Dont give my brother a steve austin outfit
Dont give my sister a cuddly toy
We dont want a jigsaw or monopoly money
We only want the real mccoy
Father christmas, give us some money
Well beat you up if you make us annoyed
Father christmas, give us some money
Dont mess around with those silly toys
But give my daddy a job cause he needs one
Hes got lots of mouths to feed
But if youve got one, Ill have a machine gun
So I can scare all the kids down the street
Father christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
Well beat you up if you dont hand it over
Give all the toys to the little rich boys
Have yourself a merry merry christmas
Have yourself a good time
But remember the kids who got nothin
While youre drinkin down your wine
Father christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
Well beat you up if you dont hand it over
We want your bread, so dont make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conclusion Of A Letter To The Rev. Mr. C---.
'Tis Time to conclude; for I make it a Rule,
To leave off all Writing, when Con. comes from School.
He dislikes what I've written, and says, I had better
To send what he calls a poetical Letter.
To this I reply'd, You are out of your Wits;
A Letter in Verse would put him in Fits:
He thinks it a Crime in a Woman to read--
Then, what would he say, should your Counsel succeed?
I pity poor Barber, his Wife's so romantick:
A Letter in Rhyme!--Why, the Woman is frantick!
This Reading the Poets has quite turn'd her Head!
On my Life, she should have a dark Room, and Straw Bed.
I often heard say, that St. Patrick took care,
No poisonous Creature should live in this Air:
He only regarded the Body, I find;
But Plato consider'd who poison'd the Mind.
Would they'd follow his Precepts, who sit at the Helm,
And drive Poetasters from out of the Realm!
Her Husband has surely a terrible Life;
There's nothing I dread, like a verse--writing Wife:
Defend me, ye Powers, from that fatal Curse;
Which must heighten the Plagues of for better for worse!
May I have a Wife, that will dust her own Floor;
And not the fine Minx, recommended by More.
(That he was a Dotard, is granted, I hope,
Who dy'd for asserting the Rights of the Pope.)
If ever I marry, I'll chuse me a Spouse,
That shall serve and obey, as she's bound by her Vows;
That shall, when I'm dressing, attend like a Valet;
Then go to the Kitchen, and study my Palate.
She has Wisdom enough, that keeps out of the Dirt,
And can make a good Pudding, and cut out a Shirt.
What Good's in a Dame, that will pore on a Book?
No!--Give me the Wife, that shall save me a Cook.
Thus far I had written--Then turn'd to my Son,
To give him Advice, ere my Letter was done.
My Son, should you marry, look out for a Wife,
That's fitted to lighten the Labours of Life.
Be sure, wed a Woman you thoroughly know,
And shun, above all Things, a housewifely Shrew;
That would fly to your Study, with Fire in her Looks,
And ask what you got by your poring on Books;
Think Dressing of Dinner the Height of all Science,
And to Peace, and good Humour bid open Defiance.
Avoid the fine Lady, whose Beauty's her Care;
Who sets a high Price on her Shape, and her Air;
Who in Dress, and in Visits, employs the whole Day;
And longs for the Ev'ning, to sit down to play.
Chuse a Woman of Wisdom, as well as good Breeding,
With a Turn, at least no Aversion, to Reading:
In the Care of her Person, exact and refin'd;
Yet still, let her principal Care be her Mind:
Who can, when her Family Cares give her Leisure,
Without the dear Cards, pass an Ev'ning with Pleasure;
In forming her Children to Virtue and Knowledge,
Nor trust, for that Care, to a School, or a College:
By Learning made humble, not thence taking Airs,
To despise, or neglect, her domestick Affairs:
Nor think her less fitted for doing her Duty,
By knowing its Reasons, its Use, and its Beauty.
When you gain her Affection, take care to preserve it,
Lest others persuade her, you do not deserve it.
Still study to heighten the Joys of her Life;
Nor treat her the worse, for her being your Wife.
If in Judgment she errs, set her right, without Pride:
'Tis the Province of insolent Fools, to deride.
A Husband's first praise, is a Friend and Protector:
Then change not these Titles, for Tyrant and Hector.
Let your Person be neat, unaffectedly clean,
Tho' alone with your Wife the whole Day you remain.
Chuse Books, for her Study, to fashion her Mind,
To emulate those who excell'd of her Kind.
Be Religion the principal Care of your Life,
As you hope to be blest in your Children and Wife:
So you, in your Marriage, shall gain its true End;
And find, in your Wife, a Companion and Friend.
poem by Mary Barber
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Shiny Toys
Shiny toys--right on time
Shiny toys--right on time
Shiny toys
Im reading people rags in the checkout lane
Look, heres a hunk--heres a honey
Celebrated people and their claims to fame
Heres a boy and his money
And pictures of the winners in the latest
Ratepoll games
Whatever makes you yahoo
Whatever makes your time feel satisfyin
Whatever makes you
Oh Im so excited
Whatever makes you feel like youre right on time
Party night
Good bands all over town
(good, good, good)
Mega lights and supersonic sounds
(good, good, good)
Flashy boys and girls that really play
(good, good, good)
Shiny toys, when its over dont you
Hate to have to put your toys away
Shiny toys--i love my porsche
Shiny toys
Shiny toys--i love my porsche
Shiny toys
Simple joys
Walking on the beach at the end of the day
Between the sand and the seagulls
Watching the glorious sun setting on the bay
Here comes a boy and his beagle
Walking with a man in a toupee
And a man with his head shaved
Whatever makes you mmmm, mmmm
Whatever makes your time feel satisfyin
Whatever makes you mmmmm, mmmm
Whatever makes you feel like youre right on time
Party night
Super bands all over town
(good, good, good)
Super lights and supersonic sounds
(good, good, good)
Flashy boys and girls that really play
(good, good, good)
Shiny toys, when its over
Dont you hate to have to put your toys away
Shiny toys--right on time
Shiny toys--right on time
Shiny toys--right on time
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Borellus
Essential Salts of animals may
Be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious man
May have the whole Ark of Noah in his own
Study and raise the fine shape of an animal
Out of its ashes at his pleasure
Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood
Bring only fear and sadness
Old years of play
Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours
In vast and dismal chambers
With brown hangings
And maddening rows of antique books
Watch them in twilight groves
Oh in twilight groves
Oh in twilight groves
By method from the essential salts of humane dust
A philosopher may call up the shape of any dead ancestor
From the dust where into his body has been
Incinerated incinerated incinerated
You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned he's returning
In every new born child
In every new born child
You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned he's returning
In every new born child
In every new born child
In every new born child
Essential Salts of animals may
Be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious man
May have the whole Ark of Noah in his own
Study and raise the fine shape of an animal
Out of its ashes at his pleasure
You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned, he's returning
In every new born child
In every new born child
You're under pressure baby
Christ has returned, he's returning
In every new born child
In every new born child
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Allegory: A Moral Vehicle
I had a gig-horse, and I called him Pleasure
Because on Sundays for a little jaunt
He was so fast and showy, quite a treasure;
Although he sometimes kicked and shied aslant.
I had a chaise, and christened it Enjoyment,
With yellow body and the wheels of red,
Because it was only used for one employment,
Namely, to go wherever Pleasure led.
I had a wife, her nickname was Delight:
A son called Frolic, who was never still:
Alas! how often dark succeeds to bright!
Delight was thrown, and Frolic had a spill,
Enjoyment was upset and shattered quite,
And Pleasure fell a splitter on Paine's Hill.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Allegory
I had a gig-horse, and I called him Pleasure
Because on Sundays for a little jaunt
He was so fast and showy, quite a treasure;
Although he sometimes kicked and shied aslant.
I had a chaise, and christened it Enjoyment,
With yellow body and the wheels of red,
Because it was only used for one employment,
Namely, to go wherever Pleasure led.
I had a wife, her nickname was Delight:
A son called Frolic, who was never still:
Alas! how often dark succeeds to bright!
Delight was thrown, and Frolic had a spill,
Enjoyment was upset and shattered quite,
And Pleasure fell a splitter on Paine's Hill.
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Man With All The Toys
Hes the man with all the toys
Someone found a lighted house late one night
And he saw through the window a sight
A big man in a chair
And little tiny men everywhere
Hes the man with all the toys
Well how thrilled that someone must have been
And he must have been tempted to go in
He stayed out in the cold
And when he left them he told
About the man with all the toys
Hes the man with all the toys
The man with all the toys
Hes the man with all the toys
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song From An Evening's Love
After the pangs of a desperate lover,
When day and night I have sighed all in vain,
Ah, what a pleasure it is to discover
In her eyes pity, who causes my pain!
When with unkindness our love at a stand is,
And both have punished ourselves with the pain,
Ah, what a pleasure the touch of her hand is!
Ah, what a pleasure to touch it again!
When the denial comes fainter and fainter,
And her eyes give what her tongue does deny,
Ah, what a trembling I feel when I venture!
Ah, what a trembling does usher my joy!
When, with a sigh, she accords me the blessing,
And her eyes twinkle 'twixt pleasure and pain,
Ah, what a joy 'tis beyond all expressing!
Ah, what a joy to hear 'Shall we again!'
poem by John Dryden
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The Best School of All
It's good to see the school we knew,
the land of youth and dream.
To greet again the rule we knew,
before we took the stream.
Though long we've missed the sight of her,
Out hearts may not forget:
We've lost the old delight of her,
We keep her honour yet.
Chorus:
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
The stars and sounding vanities
That half the crowd bewitch.
What are they but inanities
To him that treads the pitch?
And where's the welth I'm wondering,
Could buy the cheers that roll
When the last charge goes thundering
Towards the twilight goal?
Then men that tanned the hide of us,
Our daily foes and friends,
They shall not lose their pride of us,
However the journey ends.
Their voice to us who sing of it,
No more its message bears,
But the round world shall ring of it,
And all we are be theirs.
To speak of fame a venture is,
There's little here can bide,
But we may face the centuries,
And dare the deepending tide;
for though the dust that's part of us,
To dust again be gone,
Yet here shall beat the heart of us,
The school we handed on!
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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