Mrs Pacha won't let me read this nursery rhyme to baby Barry. It's by Robert Louis Stevenson and used to be one of my favourites:
Foreign Children
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee
O! Don't you wish that you were me?
You have seen the the scarlet trees,
And the lions over seas;
You have eaten ostrich eggs,
And turned the turtles off their legs.
Such a life is very fine,
But it's not so nice as mine,
You must often, as you trod,
Have wearied not to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat,
I am fed on proper meat;
You must dwell beyond the foam,
But I am safe and live at home.
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee
O! Don't you wish that you were me?
Foreign Children
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee
O! Don't you wish that you were me?
You have seen the the scarlet trees,
And the lions over seas;
You have eaten ostrich eggs,
And turned the turtles off their legs.
Such a life is very fine,
But it's not so nice as mine,
You must often, as you trod,
Have wearied not to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat,
I am fed on proper meat;
You must dwell beyond the foam,
But I am safe and live at home.
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee
O! Don't you wish that you were me?
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