Here is how you make a bowl of Chocolate Spaghetti. honest, very nice.

Sun, 28 Jun 2009

Have you ever had Chocolate Spaghetti, and really loved it ?

"DINO'S BURGER BAR" WELCOME TO THE DINOSAUR BAR. But today Dino's bar is taken over by Dido's cousin Chico. Now you may all be wondering why is Chico here, and what for. Has he got a new style burger? No! Maybe he has a new Veggie Dish? No! Shall I tell you? ........ Okay he makes CHOCOLATE. And what he doesn't know about chocolate isn't worth knowing! See! I mean do you know that chocolate comes from a bean. Yea, a little bean that grows on a tree. To be precise A Cacao Tree. Cacao is a Spanish word that came from the Aztec people, who lived many, many, years ago. They called it CACAHUATL, then when the Spanish conquistadors such as Hernán Cortés and Bernal Díaz del Castillo., went into their country which was in the middle of what we now call Mexico, they took it and gave it to the world. It was still known as Cacao then, but somewhere along the way it became Cocoa . Dark Chocolate, is very bitter and many children hate it. I don't like it and I'm ancient, but Peter my husband he loves it, and the darker the better, yuck!. I do love the flower of the Cacao Tree, it is really lovely, take a look..... Don't you think it looks a bit like an orchid, very beautiful. I bet you didn't know either that there is NO chocolate at all in what the sweet makers call White Chocolate. It is white and it looks a bit like a chocolate bar but it isn't. So when mummy says "no Molly , you can't have any white chocolate." you can tell her that white chocolate isn't chocolate, hehehe. The same goes for the chocolate that people buy to decorate cakes, that is just chocolate coloured candy and nothing else, hehe., These on your right are the Cacao Pods, while these on the left are the actual cacao beans, but they take a long, long time to grow first on the tree, then as flowers, then as bean pods and now as the actual beans. You and I can't be bothered with all them things. I'll let you go to "Wiki" to read about them, and we'll just go straight to the chocolate. As we all know, by the way we are told if we eat to much chocolate we shall change into horrible little, or big goblins and this isn't just a special thing for children. My husband becomes very active and always ends up taking the dogs for a long walk. Hm m m, strange creatures men. Here is a very strange recipe for you, you can use, rice krispies, corn flakes, and even spaghetti, but this has to be cooked first. eat them as a cake or eat them in small cake cases, but the spaghetti is better in a bowl You need 12oz margarine. 2 tblsp of Castor Sugar. 2tblsp of cocoa. 2 drops of vanilla essence and 100 grams spaghetti, broken into pieces about six cm. long, "about mouth size." Get mum or dad to help you with cooking the spaghetti. Pour a litre water into a large saucepan, when boiling pour in the strands of spaghetti, add a pinch of salt but it's not necessary. Boil until it is just cooked, no more or it will go all gooey and stick together, and we don't want that. Put in strainer and hold under the hot tap till the pieces separate. Mix all the other ingredients together in the empty pan and mix well, then pour in the strained spaghetti and stir until it is coated in the sticky chocolate spread. Allow to cool, then eat till you puke, lol. When the Aztec had all the cacoa, they used it as we do money today. My Uncle George was a foreman at one of the big Cadbury's Chocolate Factories, here in Wales in Bangor-isy -Coed, I remember as a little one having loads of it for Christmas and Easter. Huge slaps, with a flag in the middle, and he used to bring us "Edinburgh Rock" all different colours and a bit like chalk only more tasty. You can still buy it, but it is nothing like the one we had in the fifties, real scrummie. ( I think Diddily is very old, oh dear.) One of the thing's I used to love doing was making a very strange mixture. My three boys used to love them. Take one green eating apple, (cos they are the hardest) for each person. then you need a lge pkt of plain crisps, two of my lads used to have cheese and onion, and a good make, small bar of dark or milk chocolate. (not white) Very carefully core the apple with corer, cut the apples in half, then with a spoon remove the flesh of the apple. DON'T BREAK THROUGH THE SKIN, you are refilling this after, do the same to other half of the apple. Now for the fun bit. Chop the apple into a dish, crush the crisps in the packet till tiny bits. and then grate the chocolate bar into same bowl. Mix the three together, when fully mixed together, put the mix back into the apple skin half, put on a tray and put in the fridge till nice and cold. And all you have left to do is eat it like you would an ordinary apple. Excellent and your getting heat from the chocolate; vitamin C from the apple and carbs from the crisps. Three of your five a day in one go. Right that's enough about chocolate. I shall look for more recipes. xxx Diddily dee dot, xxx

The day Imogen came to Tea, was to be quite an event for Katy Carr.

Kayleigh of Q Gardens




IMOGEN COMES TO TEA
by Susan Coolidge
the author of the "Katy" books.






"Aunt Izzie, may I ask Imogen Clark to spend the day here on Saturday?" cried Katy, bursting in one afternoon.
"Who on earth is Imogen Clark?" I never heard the name before," replied her aunt.
"Oh, the loveliest girl! She hasn't been going to Mrs Knight's school but a little while, but we're the greatest friends. And she's perfectly beautiful, Aunt Izzie. Her hands are just as white as snow, and no bigger that that. She's got the littlest waist of any girl in school, and she's really is sweet, and so self denying and unselfish! I don't believe she has a bit good times at home, either. Do let me ask her to come, Aunt Izzie!"
"How do you know she is so sweet and denying if you've only known her such a short time?" Asked Aunt Izzie, in an uncompromising tone.
"Oh, she tells me everything! We always walk together at recess now. I know all about her, and she's just lovely! Her father used to be real rich, but they're poor now, and Imogen had to have her boots patched twice last winter. I guess she's the flower of her family. You can't think how I love her!" concluded Katy sentimentally.
"No I can't," said Aunt Izzie. "I never could see these sudden friendships of yours, Katy, and I'd rather you wouldn't invite this Imogen, or what ever her name is, till I've had a chance to ask somebody about her."
Katy clasped her hands in despair. "Oh Aunt Izzie!" she cried, "Imogen knows that I came in to ask you, and she's standing at the gate at this moment, waiting to hear what you say. Please let me just this once! I shall be so dreadfully ashamed not to."
"Well," said Aunt Izzie, moved by the wretchedness of Katy's face, "If you have asked her already it's no use my saying no, I suppose. But recollect Katy, this is not to happen again. I can't have you inviting girls, and then coming for my leave. Your father won't be at all pleased. He's very particular about whom you make friends with. Remember how Mrs. Spenser turned out"
Poor Katy she was always getting herself into scrapes, with her taking to people so easily. Ever since she began to walk and talk "Katy's intimate friends" had been one of the jokes of the household.

Papa once undertook to keep a list of them, but the number grew so great that he had to give up in despair. First on the list was a small Irish child, named Marianne O' Riley. Marianne lived in a street which Katy passed by on the way to school. It was not Mrs. Knight's but an A B C school to which Doris and John went now. Marianne used to be always making sand-pies in front of her mother's house, and Katy, who was about five years old, often stopped to help her. Over this mutual pastry dish they grew so intimate that Katy resolved to adopt Marianne as her own little girl, and bring her up in a safe and hidden corner.
She told Clover of this plan but nobody else. The two children full of delight at their secret, began to save pieces of bread and biscuits from their supper every evening. By degrees they collected a great heap of dry crusts, and other refreshments, which they put safely away in the attic. They also saved apples they were given for two weeks, and made a bed in a big empty box, with cotton quilts, and the doll's pillows out of the baby house. When all was ready Katy broke the plan to her beloved Marianne, and easily persuaded her to run away and take possession of this new home.
"We won't tell Papa and Mamma till she's quite grown up, Katy," said Clover; "Then we'll bring her downstairs, and won't they be surprised! Don't let's call her Marianne any longer, either. It isn't pretty. We'll name her Susquehanna instead - Susquehanna Carr. Recollect, Marianne, you mustn't answer if I call you Marianne, only when I say Susquehanna."
"Yes'm," replied Marianne, very meekly.
For a whole day all went on delightfully. Susquehanna lived in her wooden box, ate all the apples and the freshest of the biscuits, and was happy.
The two children took it in turn to steal away and play with "the baby" as they called Marianne, even though she was a good deal bigger than Clover. But when night came and nurse came and swooped on Katy and Clover and carried them off to bed, Little Miss O'Riley began to think that the attic was a dreadful place. Peeping out of the corner of the box she could see black things standing in the corners, which she couldn't remember seeing in the daytime. They were really dark trunks and brooms and warming pans, but somehow in the darkness they looked different, big and awful. Poor little Marianne bore it as long as she could; but when at last a rat began to scratch in the wall close besides her, her courage gave way entirely, and she screamed at the top of her voice.
"What on earth was that?" said Dr. Carr, who had just come in, and was on his way upstairs. "It sounds as if it came from the attic." said Mrs Carr, (for this was before Mamma died). "Can it be one of the children has got out of bed and wandered upstairs in her sleep?" No, Katy and Clover were safe in the nursery, so Dr. Carr took a candle and went to the attic as fast as he could, where the howls were growing louder. When he reached the top of the stairs the cries ceased. He looked about. Nothing was to be seen at first, then a little head appeared over the edge of the big wooden box, and a piteous voice sobbed out:
"Ah, Miss Katy, and indeed I can't be staying her any longer. There's rats in it!"

"Who on earth are you?" asked the amazed doctor.

"Sure but I'm Miss Katy's and Miss Clover's baby. But I don't want to be a baby any longer. I want to go home and see my mother." And again the poor little midge lifted up her voice and wept.

From Here to There and Back again with Dodie : Blog

From Here to There and Back again with Dodie : Blog

From Here to There and Back again with Dodie : Blog

From Here to There and Back again with Dodie : Blog

The Tale of The Little Purse with Two Half Pennies.

THIS LITTLE STORY COMES FROM ROMANIA

The Little Purse with Two Half-Pennies

There was once an old man and an old woman. The old woman had a hen and the old man had a rooster; the old woman's hen laid two eggs a day and she ate a great many, but she would not give the old man a single one. One day the old man lost patience and said:

"Listen, old crony, you live as if you were in clover, give me a couple of eggs so that I can at least have a taste of them."

"No indeed!" replied the old woman, who was very avaricious. "If you want eggs, beat your rooster that he may lay eggs for you, and then eat them; I flogged my hen, and just see how she lays now."

The old man, being stingy and greedy, listened to the old woman's talk, angrily seized his rooster, gave him a sound thrashing and said:

"There, now, lay some eggs for me or else go out of the house, I won't feed you for nothing any longer."

As soon as the rooster escaped from the old man's hands it ran off down the high-road. While thus pursuing its way, lo and behold! it found a little purse with two half-pennies. Taking it in its beak, the bird turned and went back toward the old man's house. On the road it met a carriage containing a gentleman and several ladies. The gentleman looked at the rooster, saw a purse in its bill, and said to the driver:

"Get down and see what this rooster has in its beak."

The driver hastily jumped from his box, took the little purse from the rooster's bill, and gave it to his master. The gentleman put it in his pocket and drove on. The rooster was very angry and ran after the carriage, repeating continually:

"Kikeriki, sir, Kikerikak,
To me the little purse give back."

The enraged gentleman said to the coachman as they passed a well:

"Take that impudent rooster and throw it into the well."

The driver got down from his box again, seized the rooster, and flung it down the well. When the rooster saw that its life was in such great danger, what was it to do? It began to swallow the water, and drank and drank till it had swallowed all the water in the well. Then it flew out and again ran after the carriage, calling:

"Kikeriki, sir, Kikerikak,
To me the little purse give back."

When the gentleman saw this, he was perfectly amazed and said:

"Hoho! This rooster is a perfect imp of Satan! Never mind! I'll wring your neck, you saucy cockerel!"

When he reached home he told the cook to take the rooster, throw it on the coals burning upon the hearth, and push a big stone in front of the opening in the chimney. The old woman did what her master bade her. When the rooster saw this new injustice, it began to spit out the water it had swallowed till it had poured all the water from the well upon the burning coals. This put out the fire, cooled the hearth, and made such a flood on the kitchen floor that the cook fainted away from pure rage. Then the rooster gave the stone a push, came out safe and sound, ran to the gentleman's window, and began to knock on the panes with its bill, screaming:

"Kikeriki, sir, Kikerikak,
To me the little purse give back."

"Heaven knows that I've got a torment in this monster of a rooster," said the gentleman. "Driver, rid me of it, toss it into the middle of the herds of cows and oxen; perhaps some bull will stick its horns through it and relieve us."

The coachman seized the rooster and flung it among the herds. You ought to have seen the rooster's delight. It swallowed bulls, oxen, cows, and calves, till it had devoured the whole herd and its stomach had grown as big as a mountain. Then it went to the window again, spread out its wings before the sun so that it darkened the gentleman's room, and once more began:

"Kikeriki, sir, Kikerikak,
To me the little purse give back."

When the gentleman saw this he was ready to burst with rage and did not know what to do to get rid of the rooster. He stood thinking till at last an idea entered his head:

"I'll lock it up in the treasure-chamber. Perhaps if it tries to swallow the ducats one will stick in its throat, and I shall get rid of the bird."

No sooner said than done. He grasped the rooster and flung it into the treasure-chamber. The rooster swallowed all the money and left the chests empty. Then it escaped from the room, went to the gentleman's window, and again began:

"Kikeriki, sir, Kikerikak,
To me the little purse give back."

As the gentleman saw that there was nothing else to be done he tossed the purse out. The rooster picked it up, went about its own business, and left the gentleman in peace. All the poultry ran after the rooster so that it really looked like a wedding; but the gentleman turned green with rage as he watched, and said sighing:

"Let them all run off to the last chick, I'm glad to be rid of the torment; there was witchcraft in that rooster!"

But the puffed-up rooster stalked proudly along, followed by all the fowls, and went merrily on and on till he
reached the old man's house and began to crow:

"Kikeriki!"

When the old man heard the rooster's voice he ran out joyfully to meet the bird, but looking through the door what did he see? His rooster had become a terrible object. An elephant beside it would have seemed like a flea; and following behind came countless flocks of birds, each one more beautiful and brilliant than the other.

When the old man saw the rooster so huge and fat, he opened the gate for it.

"Master," said the bird, "spread a sheet here in the middle of the yard."

The old man, as nimble as a top, laid down the sheet. The rooster took its stand upon it, spread its wings, and instantly the whole yard was filled with birds and herds of cattle, but it shook out on the sheet a pile of ducats that flashed in the sun till they dazzled the eyes. When the old man beheld this vast treasure he did not know what to do in his delight, and hugged and kissed the rooster. But all at once the old woman appeared from somewhere, and when she saw this marvellous spectacle her eyes glittered in her head, and she was ready to burst with wrath.

"Dear old friend," she said, "give me a few ducats."

Read the whole of this wonderful story at

diddilydeedotsdreamland.zoomshare.com

Sarah dance in the palm of my hand beneath the bright blue sky

The SECRET TRAVELS of SARAH SAGE
presents

[Photo]
SARAH DANCE

Sarah dance - on the palm of my hand,
Sarah dance - where the sea meets the land,
Sarah dance - in my twinkling eye,
Sarah Dance - beneath the blue sky.

Sarah laugh - with your white teeth like jewels,
Sarah laugh - like a frog with two pools,[Photo]
Sarah laugh - as you twirl round and round,
Sarah laugh - then collapse in a mound.

Sarah jiggle - in a sequinned fairy dress,
Sarah wriggle - with your hair in a mess,
Sarah pout - with lipstick on your lips,
Sarah shout - with polish on your finger tips.

Sarah dance - 0n the palm of my hand,
Sarah dance - in a mystical land,
Sarah dance - in my twinkling eye,
Sarah dance - beneath the blue sky.


Willowdown©

This is a wee story about the Missing Gulab Jamuns, recipe for these delicious sweets at Donna's Diner. Story at Hopscotch.

A Little bit of DIMDIMA and Gulab Jamuns, story on Hopscotch recipe at Donna's Diner. Both at diddilydeedotsdreamland.

By SeligorsCastle

THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING GULAB JAMUNS adapted from the story by Sangeetha Narayan From the DIMDIMA Oct 2008

I looked up from my Spider Man comics. at last there was a strange noise in the kitchen. You see, I had set a trap! "Why because for the past couple of days, our house has been in turmoil.

The delicious looking gulab jamuns that my mother so painstakingly prepared each day, kept disappearing without any clue as to who the culprit was! And since everyone knew of my weakness for anything sweet, I was the obvious suspect. "I'm very disappointed with you Arun!" said my mom. "Not only have you stolen, but you have added lying to your list of crimes. If you haven't said you are sorry, or at least found out where the sweets are going. I'm afraid I shall have to punish you severely. Now I knew I was in trouble, and I had two options, either confess to a crime I hadn't committed or find out who is the real thief was.. I always fancied myself as a detective, so this was my chance to put my detective prowess to the test. Seeking into the kitchen, from whence the noise came. I crept up behind the cupboard where the gulab jamuns had been strategically placed by me earlier. I would catch this culprit red handed. Can you imagine my surprise when I realised that the thief was my young sister! The naughty girl had let everyone believe I was a thief and a liar, how could she do that to me. So I decided to surprise her, and crept up behind her, hoping to catch her eating her first delicious jamuns.
But she wasn't eating anything, in fact she was busy pouring the sweets from our container into another one. But why? A good detective, realising there was more to this story, quietly backed away and then retrieving my camera from the bedroom, I followed Nitya through the door. Then I thought, Nitya hated sweet things, so why would she be taking these? It was becoming a bigger riddle than I thought.
I followed my sister, down the road and through the small park.
Goodness me I suddenly realised she was going to our secret hiding place. But she stopped just before the way into our den and say down on the grass. She looked at her watch and just kept watching, she was definitely waiting for someone, but who could it be.
Suddenly a big smile crossed her face and I immediately held the camera to my eye, to take the photo that would prove my innocence and her guilt. But it was not to be. As I looked at the young girl who came over to Nitya and sat besides her on the grass. I realised that I had seen this little one before. She was a young beggar girl. One whom we often passed on our way home from school. She was always at the corner of the street begging with her baby brother. I let the camera fall down by my side as I realised the treat that my small sister was giving to the little girl. Who quickly ate away the gulab jamuns, leaving no photo and no proof.

They were gone in seconds, then the little one , looked up and smiled , putting her hands on Nitya's shoulders and said,
"Thank you Didi!* I have never eaten such delicious sweets."

I left them chatting. I walked back home, wondering what to do. I decided that the best thing to do was to tell mother everything. I knew she wouldn't be to angry at my sister. And this is what I did. I was very pleased that mom believed me, and Nitya was given a small telling off for not telling mom what she was doing, and also for getting me into trouble, but she also made sure that from that day on, she made a few extra gulab jamuns for the little beggar girl and her brother.
*In India, A"Didi," is like a sister, a true friend.
I also found this little picture about a Didi, and thought it looked really nice.

Three types of tears are generated by the human eye.
Basal tears protect the eye and keep it moist.
Reflex tears flush out the eye when it becomes irritated.
And emotional tears flow in response to sadness, distress, or physical pain.

The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley Film, follows this little poem by Charles Kingley also.

presented to you by http://diddilydeedotsdreamland.zoomshare.com/

WHEN ALL THE WORLD WAS YOUNG,LAD

When all the world is young, lad
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.

When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down:
Creep home and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there
You loved when all was young.

This poem about life young and old, was written by Charles Kingsley. He was the gentleman who wrote the story of the water babies. I thin I am going to see if I can find a small film of The Water Babies and put it on here. For it is one of those fairy tales that very rarely gets any play on the television and yet it is a very, very beautiful story.

AND HERE IT IS, SPECIALLY FOR YOU, I
HOPE YOU ENJOY AND DON'T GET TO FRIGHTENED OF THE CHIMNEY SWEEP HE IS JUST A SILLY OLD ROBBER.
"There is a wonderful song in this called "Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi Cockalorum."


Click here ^ if the video player shows an error warning, it's fine.
This presentation comes from Molly Music on page 19
in Diddilydeedot's Dreamland

My Goldfish by John R. Crossland. from Diddily dee dot's dreamland

MY GOLDFISH.

All day long he swims around
His little home of glass;
He never smiles, he never frowns,
I watch him pass and pass.

Round the globe and round again;
Makes me dizzy watching;
Open mouthed, then shut again;
Wander what he's catching?

Shining like a piece of gold,
Glistening like a star;
Never winking, never blinking, --
Round and round the jar.

Round the globe and round again;
Tails and fins a - quivering,
Living in the water cold:
Wonder if he's shivering?

He's a faithful little friend,
I always know I'll find him
Swimming gravely round and round
With his tail behind him.

Round the globe and round again,
Round eyes never blinking;
Looking very, very wise:
Wonder what he's thinking?

This little poem was written by John R Crossland

Just what you can find, with the help of Google.

Wed, 03 Jun 2009

The Dog and the Sparrow by Ivan Tourgenieff, and a bit more I found on line.

Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (1818 - 1883) The Russian Writer Ivan Turgenev. A massive Russian resource on Turgenev with a section in English. Includes Turgenev's biography, translations and photographs. Before I write this little tale, I wondered who the gentleman who wrote it was, and I only had this information in my old books. "The Dog and the Sparrow," by Ivan Tourgenieff. But look at what I found out, he was a bit of a hero in the written word of Russia. Though the powers that were didn't think so at the time. Thursday, June 4, 2009 From the Archives of November 18th 1878, Wednesday. SENILIA: PROSE POEMS BY IVAN TURGENIEFF.; 1878.--IN THE VILLAGE. THE OLD WOMAN. MY DOG. THE BEGGAR. A SELF-SATISFIED MAN. A RULE OF LIFE. THE END OF THE WORLD. MASCHA. THE BLOCKHEAD. AN EASTERN LEGEND. THE TWO QUATRAINS. THE SPARROW. THE SKULLS. It is the last day of July; a thousand versts wide around is Russia--home. The whole heaven is a shadowless azure; only one solitary, tiny cloud floats therein, and melts away. Perfect calm, heat. An atmosphere like lukewarm milk.... Here is the little tale:- "The Dog and the Sparrow," by Ivan Sergeevich Tourgenieff." I was on my way home from hunting, and was walking up the garden avenue. My dog was running on in front of me. Suddenly he slackened his pace, and began to steal forward as though he had scented game ahead. I looked along the avenue; and I saw on the ground a young sparrow, its beak edged with yellow, and its head covered with soft down. It had fallen from the nest, due to a strong wind blowing and shaking the birch trees in the avenue; and there it sat and never stirred, except to stretch out its half grown wings in a helpless flutter. My dog was slowly approaching it, when suddenly, darting from the tree overhead, an old black-throated sparrow dropt like a stone right before his nose, and all rumpled and flustered, with a plaintiff desperate cry flung itself once, twice, at the open jaws with their great teeth. It would save its young one; it screened it with its own body; the tiny frame quivered with terror; the little cries grew wild and hoarse; it sank and died. It had sacrificed itself. What a huge monster the dog must have seemed to it! and yet it could not stay up there on its safe bough, A power stronger than its own will tore it away. My dog had stood still, and slunk back, away from the screeching bird. He too had felt that same power. He came to me; and a feeling of pure reverence came over me as I passed on by. No, don't laugh, It really was reverence I felt before the heroic bird and the passionate outburst of its love. Such a feeling of extreme honor and respect for something or someone. Love, I thought, is verily stronger than death and the terror of death. By love, only by love, is life sustained and moved. "Oh my children such a sad little tale, but I think the little chick would have lived for the other parent sparrow would have fed it. This is why you must never move a young bird if you find one, for so long as the parents can hear the birds squawks, they will continue to feed it. Here is also an archive from the same newspaper, noting Ivan Tourgenieff's death "IVAN TURGENIEFF DEAD"; NOTABLE CAREER OF RUSSIA'S GREATEST NOVELIST. DYING IN FRANCE AFTER A LONG ILLNESS --THE PURPOSE OF HIS WORKS--A LIFELONG ENEMY OF DESPOTISM. September 5, 1883, Wednesday Ivan Turgenieff, the Russian novelist, died at Bongival, France, on Monday, after a long illness. The saying that Russia cannot produce more than one great man at a time in any department is not altogether just; but to many superficial observers.... Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev (1818-1883) This came from a Russian news-report

Were you ever in Cardiff Bay, or Cape Horn, and were you "Riding on a Donkey."

Donkey Riding

Were you ever in Quebec
Stowin' timber on the deck?
where ye'd break yer aching neck
Riding on a donkey!

chorus: Way O and away we go
Donkey riding, donkey riding
Way O and away we go
Riding on a donkey.


Were you ever off Cape Horn
Where it's always fine and warm?
Where's there's a lion and a unicorn
Riding on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go


Were you ever in Cardiff Bay
Where the folks all shout, "Hooray!"?
"Here comes Johnny with his six months pay
Riding on a donkey."

chorus: Way O and away we go



Were you ever in Timbucktoo
Where the gals are black and blue?
And they wriggle their arses, too
Riding on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go




Were you ever in Vallipo
Where the gals put on a show?
Wriggle their arse with a roll and go
Riding on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go


Wuz ye ever down Mobile Bay
Screwin' cotton all the day?,
A dollar a day is a white man's pay.
Ridin' on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go


Wuz ye ever in Canton
Where the men wear pigtails long,
And the gals play hong-ki-kong?
Ridin' on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go


Wuz ye ever in Mirramashee

Where ye tie up to a tree,

An' the skeeters do bite we?

Ridin' on a donkey

chorus: Way O and away we go



Wuz ye ever on the Broomielaw

Where the Yanks are all the go,

An' the boys dance heel an' toe?

Ridin' on a donkey.

chorus: Way O and away we go

I used to love singing this song.

Donkey Riding

Thanks to, http://sniff.numachi.com/ For providing me with the tune
(Who Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital
Tradition!)

A PHENOMINAL WEB PAGE FOR MUSIC AND WORDS FROM A -Z

Digital Tradition Mirror

Going on an Errand ~ A beautiful Rhyme from the pen of Whoever? Thankyou very much, Seligor

"A Pound of tea at one and three,
And a pot of raspberry jam,
Two new laid eggs, a dozen pegs,
And a pound of rashers of ham."

I'll say it over all the way,
And then I'm sure not to forget,
For if I chance to bring things wrong,
My mother gets in such a pet.

"A pound of tea at one and three,
And a pot of raspberry jam,
Two new laid eggs, a dozen pegs,
And a pound of rashers of ham."

There in the hay the children play -
They're having such jolly fun;
I'll go there, too, that's what I'll do,
As soon as my errands are done.

"A pound of tea at one and three,
A pot of - er - new laid jam!
Two raspberry eggs, with a dozen pegs,
And a pound of rashers of ham."

Now here's the shop, outside I'll stop,
And run through my orders again;
I haven't forgot - no, ne'er a jot -
It shows I'm pretty cute, that's plain.

"A pound of three at one and tea,
A dozen of raspberry ham
A pot of eggs, with a dozen pegs,
And a rasher of new laid jam."

Excellent, I wonder how many of us did that when we were little?....