Nursery Rhymes for Modern Times

Prairie Tales the Wispers, Grones, and Ponders is my book for kids that features three mythic creatures that live upon the prairie.  I thought it would be fun to have a song for each creature.


















A Wisper Lullaby


Tiny ears and tiny nose,
Tiny mouth, a just like a rose.
Silky hair and milky skin,
Here's a tune to wrap my baby in.


Close your eyes, my little one.
The stars shine soft; the day is done.
Time to slumber, time to rest
Snuggled in your Wisper nest.


I'll be close until the morn.
I bless the day that you were born.
I love you more than breath or life.
I'll keep you safe all through the night.


So slumber softly, dream your dreams
Til morning brings its golden beams,
Til honey bees begin their chores,
And robin sings and sparrow soars.


I'll lock these moments in my heart,
So we will never be apart.
Though you grow so strong and tall,
In mommy's heart, you're sweet and small.






I Got the Too Much Sunshine Blues…
A Grone’s Lament:

The cheerful sun keeps shinin’ and the wind’s forgot to blow.
Here it’s January without a speck o’snow.
I can’t stand another day without a wintery break,
At least a little nasty, blasty sleet, for heaven’s sake.

So now it’s February and the grass is nicely brown,
And the wind is whistlin’ through the trees, a lovely, lonesome sound.
We’ve had a couple rainstorms, which made a dandy mush,
But I won’t smile a single smile without some slushy slush.

And March just ain’t much better, and April’s even worse
Cause now I know beyond those clouds is another sunny curse.
That prairie sun keeps shinnin’; I can hear a larky tune.
The wildflowers will be bloomin’ and I’ll be itchy soon.

It’s full blown May and June is next. So just what can I say?
The smiley sun keeps smilin’ and just won’t go away.
The air is full of flower perfume.  Oh darn oh drat oh heck!
I can feel the lumps a’formin’ and the hives upon my neck.

July and August promise some wild tornado storms.
The sky looks sometimes promising but not one funnel forms.
I’m thankful that it’s hot enough to dry up every rose,
And the ground’s a crust with powdery dust to sprinkle on my toes.

September and October are almost always bad:
The air is cool, the wind dies down.  It makes me feel so sad.
How can a Grone be happy when the leaves are all so bright?
At least the days are shorter and the sun don’t shine at night.

November comes December too and late one winter night--
Marshmallow snow, oh no, oh no a rare and ugly sight.
The morning dawns all sunny, but my frowns turn into smiles
By afternoon there’s slushy slush for miles, and miles, and miles.

Chorus                            Final Chorus
I got the sunshine blues. Got no more sunshine blues
Makes a Grone feel sad. Least for a little while.
We just cannot be happy     ‘Cause now the hills are slushy;
Unless the weather’s bad.      Now we can finally smile!

Just glad we don’t live in Florida.

A Ponder Promenade 

(refrain: Repeat at the end, or after each verse if you choose.)

Stand up tall in a big long row

Tap your heel and point your toe

Hook your elbow with a friend

Circle left then clap your hands

Flap your wings like a heron blue

Hop, hop, hop, like a green frog too

Skip like a stone across a pond

Pretend a cattail is a magic wand

Be a turtle, stretch your neck

Be a black bird, squawk like heck

Sway your arms like a willow tree

Moo like a cow and count to three

Frown like a muskrat smile like the sun

Skitter like a water strider, run, run, run

Pretend to catch a lightning bug

Give yourself a great big hug

Bend like the grass on a windy day

Muss your hair  ‘til it looks like hay

Shake your backside, knock your knees

Puff your cheeks and blow a breeze

Shade your eyes and look afar

Cup your ears and listen hard

Rub your chin and pat your head

Brush your teeth and go to bed

By the Numbers


See the bee in the apple tree.
She's got one honey pot, plain to see.


Two hairy bears come snuffling honey.
"Three pounds," says bee, "for a roll of money."


Says the smaller bear, all hungry smiles,
"I'll trade you for four fingernail files."


"How about five figs," says the bigger bear,
"Or six bright bows to tie your hair."


"Or seven green buttons from my purple vest,
Or eight orange hankies, my Sunday best?"


"How about nine noodles with chicken sauce,
Or ten rubber balls that you can toss?"


Says bee, "Get this litter off my yard!
I accept all major credit cards."




Grandma Gertie


My grandma has the whitest hair
   and the bluest eyes.
She makes me noodles and apple pies.
Her voice is soft, just like her lap
And she cuddles me cozy 
   when I take my nap.




Arachnophobia


Some think spiders are ever so icky,
Just because their webs are sticky.
Just because their legs are hairy,
Some people find them downright scary.


I know a girl who cannot sleep
If she sees a spider start to creep.
Even a teeny, tiny spider
Makes a chill begin insid'er.


She yells for dad and gets the swatter,
"Hit it, smash it, squash that squatter."
"Well, you silly little mole, 
There's nothing there but an old nail hole!"






Ten Little Birds:  A Tragic Tale of Attrition

Ten little birds, sitting on a line,

ZAP zinged a power surge,

Then there were nine.

Nine little birds, perching on a gate,

SWIPE flashed a kitty paw,

Then there were eight.

Eight little birds, staring up to heaven,

SWOOP stooped a sparrow hawk,

Then there were seven.

Seven little birds, sorting nesting sticks,

VRUMM roared the riding mower,

Then there were six.

Six little birds, checking out a hive,

BUZZZZ swarmed the worker bees,

Then there were five.

Five little birds, wading at the shore,

CRASH slammed a curling wave,

Then there were four.

Four little birds, singing in a tree,

CRACK broke the rotten branch,

Then there were three.

Three little birds, soaring in the blue,

ZOOM zipped a silver plane,

Then there were two.

Two little birds, basking in the sun,

STRIKE snatched a sneaky snake,

Then there was one.

One little bird, feeling all undone,

He looked both ways and headed south,

Then there were none.

That's why they lay more than one egg._____ Duane M. Henrikson

For the second time in forty years, my dear hubby has the flu.  He is one of those who really gets jumped on by viruses.  Back in the early 80s, he caught a bug from me, and I was insulted by the attitude that he was much more ill than I had been previously.  He demanded heaps of sympathy and constant attendance. I sat down and wrote the following:

 Du's Flu

Have you ever noticed, when your husband gets the flu

He's at least sixteen times sicker, than when the bug infested you.

His cough is so much deeper, and his throat is much more sore,

And his nausea's fathoms nastier than your nausea was before.

The thermometer, he tells you, says that he is truly hot

And his backdoor rates a gallop, while yours only got to trot.

His every joint is aching with an ache that's heard to bear,

His nose runs like a river, and the pillow hurts his hair.

It takes both Vicks and Contac for him to draw a breath

And without someone to fetch his soup, he'd surely starve to death.

I'll admit that when it's over, and he's finally feeling fine,

It takes me longer to recover from his case, than it did from mine.

We are older now.  I'm hoping that I am more sympathetic.