Poem for 8 year old boy

I used to love reading this one as a child, it evokes Halloween.

The Hag
The Hag is astride
This night for to ride,
The Devill and shee together;
Through thick and through thin,
Now out and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr
She takes for a Spurre,
With a lash of a Bramble she rides now;
Through Brakes and through Briars,
O'er Ditches and Mires,
She follows the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast for his food
Dares now range the wood,
But hush'd in his laire he lies lurking;
While mischiefs, by these,
On Land and on Seas,
At noone of Night are a-working.

The storme will arise
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the Tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Call'd out by the clap of the Thunder

Geekesse I had forgotten about that one. There was a Timothy Winters in our street when I was growing up. It also reminded me of Blake’s poem The Chimney Sweeper.

'Timothy Winters'

Timothy Winters comes to school
With eyes as wide as a football-pool,
Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:
A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.

His belly is white, his neck is dark,
And his hair is an exclamation-mark.
His clothes are enough to scare a crow
And through his britches the blue winds blow.

When teacher talks he won't hear a word
And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird,
He licks the pattern off his plate
And he's not even heard of the Welfare State.

Timothy Winters has bloody feet
And he lives in a house on Suez Street,
He sleeps in a sack on the kithen floor
And they say there aren't boys like him anymore.

Old Man Winters likes his beer
And his missus ran off with a bombardier,
Grandma sits in the grate with a gin
And Timothy's dosed with an aspirin.

The welfare Worker lies awake
But the law's as tricky as a ten-foot snake,
So Timothy Winters drinks his cup
And slowly goes on growing up.

At Morning Prayers the Master helves
for children less fortunate than ourselves,
And the loudest response in the room is when
Timothy Winters roars "Amen!"

So come one angel, come on ten
Timothy Winters says "Amen
Amen amen amen amen."
Timothy Winters, Lord. Amen

Charles Causley

And who could forget the great (and crazy) Spike Milligan’s nonsens poem .

On the Ning Nang Nong

On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
and the monkeys all say BOO!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!

I remembered this one when I was going to sleep last night - may be too young for an eight year old, but it’s easy to memorise.

The Peddlar’s Caravan by William Brighty Rands

I wish I lived in a caravan,
With a horse to drive, like the pedlar man!
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows, two,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;
He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town!

"Chairs to mend and delf to sell!"
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets, ranged in order,
Plates with the alphabet round the border!

The roads are brown and the sea is green,
But his house is just like a bathing machine;
The world is round and he can ride,
Rumble and splash to the other side!

With the pedlar-man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;
All the people would read my book,
Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

What about the little boy who wouldn't eat his soup?
I can't remember any more than that, but I used to love those quite grim, cautionary tales.

He may think he's a bit too old for Stick Man by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler
But I'm not!
I enjoyed the film too.

What about Hillaire Belloc’s ill-fated “Matilda” who told “such dreadful lies, it made one gasp, and stretch ones eyes!”

Oh, that's a lovely one.

Wow! - this is all great! - heaps of thanks!!

This is the one I am going to start him with - it is full of nonsense, but also something serious underlying it:

Me and Him by Richard Edwards

“What did you do when you were young?”
I asked of the elderly man.
“I travelled the lanes with a tortoiseshell cat
And a stick and a rickety van.
I travelled the paths with the sun on a thread,
I travelled the roads with a bucket of bread,
I travelled the world with a hen on my head
And my tea in a watering can.”
Said the elderly, elderly man.

“And what do you do now that you’re old?”
I asked of the elderly man.
“I sit on my bed and I twiddle my thumbs
And I snooze,” he replied, “and I plan
To make my escape from this nursing home place
Whose matron is strict with a pale pasty face….”
“Then come with me now and away we shall race!”
I said to the elderly man;
And he jumped out of bed and we ran.

And now we wander wherever we want,
Myself and the elderly man.
With a couple of sticks and a tortoiseshell cat
And a rickety-rackety van.
We travel the paths with the sun on a thread,
We travel the roads with two buckets of bread,
We travel the world with a hen on each head
And our tea in a watering can,
Young me and the elderly man.

I used to read to my sons at bedtime from a Penguin book of verse for children, I don't think it exists now, but there are many comparable books available. Love reading 4 kids is a good site to consult. Children who loved 'We're going on a bear hunt' when they were little, might enjoy the poems Michael Rosen has written for young readers.

Choosing child appropriate (and child sized) excerpts can introduce your GS to serious poetry without overwhelming or boring him. In later years, he will recognize the poems he loved and learn to appreciate them even more as an adult.

Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a long narrative poem about early Native American folklore and the brave warrior, Hiawatha (here is an excerpt from the section called "Hiawatha's Childhood")

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,
Daughter of the Moon,
There the wrinkled old Nokomis
Nursed the little Hiawatha,
Rocked him in his linden cradle,
Bedded soft in moss and rushes,
Safely bound with reindeer sinews;
Stilled his fretful wail by saying,
"Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!"
Lulled him into slumber, singing,
"Ewa-yea! my little owlet!
Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
With his great eyes lights the wigwam?
Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"
Many things Nokomis taught him
Of the stars that shine in heaven;
Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet,
Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;
Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,
Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,
Flaring far away to northward
In the frosty nights of Winter

Others:
Jabberwocky by Lewis Carol
The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service
Casey at the Bat by E.L. Thayer
The Children's Hour by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Happpy learning!

Charles Causley has some excellent poems too. This one is called Innocents Song and it's creepy.
Who's that knocking on the window,
Who's that standing at the door,
What are all those presents
Laying on the kitchen floor?

Who is the smiling stranger
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the children
And who could have let him in?

Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?

Why does he ferry my fireside
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of fuses
And his tongue of gingerbread?

Why does the world before him
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
Burn like saffron buns?

Watch where he comes walking
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talki ng:

Herod is his name.
But The highwayman is great, as is The Listener. Lots of modern poets too

What a lovely thread! A childhood isn't complete without poetry. The classics are best but there are no doubt some more modern (rude/bodily functions) ones that an 8 year old boy might also enjoy!
I used to love T S Eliot's cat poems too.

Please Mrs Butler by Allan Ahlberg

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps copying my work, Miss.
What shall I do?

Go and sit in the hall, dear.
Go and sit in the sink.
Take your books on the roof, my lamb.
Do whatever you think.

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps taking my rubber, Miss.
What shall I do?

Keep it in your hand, dear.
Hide it up your vest.
Swallow it if you like, my love.
Do what you think is best.

Please Mrs Butler
This boy Derek Drew
Keeps calling me rude names, miss.
What shall I do?

Lock yourself in the cupboard, dear.
Run away to sea.
Do whatever you can, my flower.
But don’t ask me.

From Collected Poems.

I had an aunt who always bought me beautifully illustrated poetry books.

She bought me a budgie, too!

I still have my battered copy of The Journey Begins, an anthology for children published in 1953

I read it to my children and grandchildren. They all had their favourites.

When I was eight, my mother gave me two poetry books, A Child’s Garland and For Your Delight. I still have them, battered and ancient, but treasured. I am so grateful to her for my lifelong love of poetry. They didn’t talk down to children, but contained Shakespeare and other great poets. Neither is available now, of course.

Oh yes!!
The Jumblies.

Far and few, and far and few,1 is the land where the Jumblies live.
Their heads are green and their hands are blue, and they went to sea in a sieve.

Five Eyes was another Walter de la Mare favourite.

My grandmother used to read 'The Picture' by Walter de la Mare to me when I was about eight or nine. Grandpa was in the merchant navy so it fed my imagination.

Macavity comes from TS Eliot’s Book of Practical Cats. Lots of good ones in there, with the strong rhythm that children respond to. Another good one is Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat.

Edward Lear, The Jumblies, The Owl and the Pussycat and other poems.

I used to love “Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen”, by William Allingham.

Just found it!

'Gran Can You Rap?' by Jack Ousbey

Gran…Can you Rap?
Gran was in her chair she was taking a nap
When I tapped her on the shoulder to see if she could rap.
Gran can you rap? Can you rap? Can you Gran?
And she opened one eye and she said to me, Man,
I'm the best rapping Gran this world's ever seen
I'm a tip-top, slip-slap, rap-rap queen.

And she rose from the chair in the corner of the room
And she started to rap with a bim-bam-boom,
And she rolled up her eyes and she rolled round her head
And as she rolled by this is what she said,
I'm the best rapping gran this world's ever seen
I'm a nip-nap, yip-yap, rap-rap queen.

Then she rapped past my Dad and she rapped past my mother,
She rapped past me and my little baby brother.
She rapped her arms narrow she rapped her arms wide,
She rapped through the door and she rapped outside.
She's the best rapping Gran this world's ever seen
She's a drip-drop, trip-trap, rap-rap queen.

She rapped down the garden she rapped down the street,
The neighbours all cheered and they tapped their feet.
She rapped through the traffic lights as they turned red
As she rapped round the corner this is what she said,
I'm the best rapping Gran this world's ever seen
I'm a flip-flop, hip-hop, rap-rap queen.

She rapped down the lane she rapped up the hill,
And as she disappeared she was rapping still.
I could hear Gran's voice saying, Listen Man,
Listen to the rapping of the rap-rap Gran.
I'm the best rapping Gran this world's ever seen
I'm a -
tip-top, slip-slap,
nip-nap, yip-yap,
hip-hop, trip-trap,
touch yer cap,
take a nap,
happy, happy, happy, happy,
rap-rap-queen.

Maveric Prowles
Had Rumbling Bowels
That thundered in the night.
It shook the bedrooms all around
And gave the folks a fright.
The doctor called;
He was appalled
When through his stethoscope
He heard the sound of a baying hound,
And the acrid smell of smoke.
Was there a cure?
'The higher the fewer'
The learned doctor said,
Then turned poor Maveric inside out
And stood him on his head.
'Just as I thought
You've been and caught
An Asiatic flu -
You musn't go near dogs I fear
Unless they come near you.'
Poor Maveric cried.
He went cross-eyed,
His legs went green and blue.
The doctor hit him with a club
And charged him one and two.
And so my friend
This is the end,
A warning to the few:
Stay clear of doctors to the end
Or they'll get rid of you.

Here’s a fab poem it’s called ‘Gran can you rap?’ By Jack Ousbey. If you can’t find it online let me know and I will type it out for you.

I intend getting my 2 grandsons reading it with me when they come for the day. It moves at a great pace, is fun and has lots of rhyming words.