Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door. When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose. Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding cake.
Author: Bill Morgan Jr. Winter came down to our home one night. Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow, and we were children once again.
I made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me I made it some pajamas and a pillow for it's head Then, last night it ran away But first -- it wet the bed.
One little snowflake falls on my nose. It makes me shiver from my head to my toes. Two little snowflakes get in my eyes. Blink! Blink! What a surprise! Three little snowflakes melt on my tongue. I eat them up. Yum! Yum! Yum! Four little snowflakes tickle my chin. I laugh. I jump. I run. I spin. I stop, and I put out my hand. Five little snowflakes softly land. Snow on the house. Snow on the tree. Snow on the ground. Snow on me! Millions of snowflakes in my hair. Snowflakes falling everywhere!
My goodness, my goodness, It's Christmas again. the bells are all ringing.I do not know when I've been so excited. The tree is all fixed, The candles are lighted, The pudding is mixed.
The wreath's on the door And the carols are sung, The presents are wrapped And the holly is hung. The turkey is sitting All safe in its pan, And I am behaving As calm as I can.
Santa's Reindeer Tamika M. One little, two little, three little reindeer, Four little, five little, six little reindeer, Seven little, eight little, nine little reindeer, Pulling Santa's sleigh. (tune: Ten Little Indians)
It seems that dear old Santa Claus One day in old November Received a note from Dottie D., With words and phrases tender, In which she asked the dear old man With many words of warning, To bring her a new Paris doll On the next Christmas morning.
Just as he started for his sleigh One eve, in old December, He turned to Mistress Santa Claus And said, "Did you remember About that fine new Paris doll For wee Dot in the city? I must not fail to take that gift, 'Twould be a dreadful pity."
It was early in the morning, One day in old December; A very happy, joyous day That children all remember, When Santa, on his mission fleet, To the nursery came creeping, And left the fine new Paris doll Among the others, sleeping.
The holly and the mistletoe Were bright this winter morning; One stocking filled from top to toe The mantel was adorning. A Christmas tree hung full with gifts, While underneath, reposing On an upholstered rocking chair, The Paris doll was dozing.
Then suddenly from out the gloom Dot's other dolls came peeping, Their hair uncombed, their dresses torn, And noses red with weeping; They talked in whispers soft and low, But tones that grew quite scornful, About the fate that was to greet This stranger, sad and mournful.
There were Annabel and Bessie, That came one cold December; They hobbled round with broken backs From falling on the fender. Then Tommy, Grace, and baby Ruth, All came one birthday party, And Rose and Don a year ago, With Santa Claus so hearty.
They all assembled round the tree, And then with manners shocking They pinched and shook the Paris doll, And cried in words so mocking - "Why, don't you know, you stupid thing, Dot won't care for another, She has received this Christmas morn A dear, sweet baby brother!"
We are a band of carollers, We march through frost and snow, But care not for the weather As on our way we go. At every hall or cottage That stands upon our way, We stop to give the people Best wishes for the day. We pray a merry Christmas, Made bright by Christmas cheer, With peace, and hope, and gladness And all they may hold dear. And for all those that happen To pass us on our way We have a smile, and wish them A merry Christmas-day.
Evergreen boughs that fill our homes With fragrant Christmas scents, Hearts filled with the loving glow That Christmas represents; Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed, Festive holly berry, Little faces bright with joy, Loved ones being merry; Parties, songs, beribboned gifts, Silver bells that tinkle, Christmas trees and ornaments, Colorful lights that twinkle; Relatives waiting with open arms To smile and hug and kiss us; These are some of the special joys That come along with Christmas.
Poor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear What happened to Piccola, children dear? ’T is seldom Fortune such favor grants As fell to this little maid of France.
’T was Christmas-time, and her parents poor Could hardly drive the wolf from the door, Striving with poverty’s patient pain Only to live till summer again.
No gifts for Piccola! Sad were they When dawned the morning of Christmas-day; Their little darling no joy might stir, St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her!
But Piccola never doubted at all That something beautiful must befall Every child upon Christmas-day, And so she slept till the dawn was gray.
And full of faith, when at last she woke, She stole to her shoe as the morning broke; Such sounds of gladness filled all the air, ’T was plain St. Nicholas had been there!
In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild: Never was seen such a joyful child. “See what the good saint brought!” she cried, And mother and father must peep inside.
Now such a story who ever heard? There was a little shivering bird! A sparrow, that in at the window flew, Had crept into Piccola’s tiny shoe!
“How good poor Piccola must have been!” She cried, as happy as any queen, While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed, And danced with rapture, she was so charmed.
Children, this story I tell to you, Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true. In the far-off land of France, they say, Still do they live to this very day.
Come skating They said come skating; They said it's so nice. They said come skating; I'd done it twice. They said come skating; It sounded nice. I wore roller- They meant ice. By: Shel Silverstein
Happy Holidays:
ReplyDeleteAll join hands and sing this song,
Happy holidays.
Family’s coming won’t be long,
Happy holidays.
Happy holidays, happy holidays.
We’ll circle ‘round,
Then all sit down,
Happy holidays.
(For Kindergartner's, rather than a song about any one religious holiday, like Christmas, respects diversity and embraces togetherness and family)
Winter-Time
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
One little snowflake with nothing to do.
ReplyDeleteAlong came another and
Then there were two.
Two little snowflakes laughing with me.
Along came another, and
Then there were three.
Three little snowflakes looking for some more.
Along came another, and
Then there were four.
Four little snowflakes dancing a jive.
Along came another, and
Then there were five.
Five little snowflakes having so much fun.
Out came the sun, and
Then there were none!
--Unknown
Gingerbread Boy / Girl
ReplyDeleteI'm a little gingerbread boy. (Boys bow.)
I'm a little gingerbread girl. (Girls bow.)
I can jump, (All jump.)
And I can twirl. (All turn around.)
I have raisins (Point to eyes.)
For my eyes,
And bright red buttons (Point to buttons down chest.)
Just this size.
I have a mouth,
It looks like this. (Point to smiling mouth.)
I can even
Blow a kiss. (Blow a kiss.)
I'm warm and tasty,
But don't eat me. (Shake head.)
Hang me on
Your Christmas tree! (Put hands over head.)
Winter
ReplyDeleteAuthor: Bill Morgan Jr.
Winter came down to our home one night. Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow, and we were children once again.
Snow Ball
ReplyDeleteI made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be
I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me
I made it some pajamas and a pillow for it's head
Then, last night it ran away
But first -- it wet the bed.
Shel Silverstein
Falling Snow
ReplyDeleteSee the pretty snowflakes
Falling from the sky;
On the wall and housetops
Soft and thick they lie.
On the window ledges,
On the branches bare;
Now how fast they gather,
Filling all the air.
Look into the garden,
Where the grass was green;
Covered by the snowflakes,
Not a blade is seen.
Now the bare black bushes
All look soft and white,
Every twig is laden,
What a pretty sight!
MILLIONS OF SNOWFLAKES.
ReplyDeleteOne little snowflake falls on my nose.
It makes me shiver from my head to my toes.
Two little snowflakes get in my eyes.
Blink! Blink! What a surprise!
Three little snowflakes melt on my tongue.
I eat them up. Yum! Yum! Yum!
Four little snowflakes tickle my chin.
I laugh. I jump. I run. I spin.
I stop, and I put out my hand.
Five little snowflakes softly land.
Snow on the house. Snow on the tree.
Snow on the ground. Snow on me!
Millions of snowflakes in my hair.
Snowflakes falling everywhere!
~~By Mary McKenna.~~
Winter-Time
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
The Present
ReplyDeleteWhat's in the box?
What can it be?
I'll try and guess,
Now let me see.
A doll, a truck, some building blocks.
A hat, a scarf, some warm red socks.
What's in the box?
What can it be?
I'm only sure that it's for me!
First Snow
ReplyDeleteAuthor: Mary Louise Allen
Snow makes whiteness where it falls,
The bushes look like popcorn balls.
The places where I always play,
Look like somewhere else today.
MeredithC
ReplyDeleteCHRISTMAS
By Marchette Chute
My goodness, my goodness,
It's Christmas again.
the bells are all ringing.I do not know when
I've been so excited.
The tree is all fixed,
The candles are lighted,
The pudding is mixed.
The wreath's on the door
And the carols are sung,
The presents are wrapped
And the holly is hung.
The turkey is sitting
All safe in its pan,
And I am behaving
As calm as I can.
Santa's Reindeer
ReplyDeleteTamika M.
One little, two little, three little reindeer,
Four little, five little, six little reindeer,
Seven little, eight little, nine little reindeer,
Pulling Santa's sleigh.
(tune: Ten Little Indians)
A Christmas Gift
ReplyDeleteIt seems that dear old Santa Claus
One day in old November
Received a note from Dottie D.,
With words and phrases tender,
In which she asked the dear old man
With many words of warning,
To bring her a new Paris doll
On the next Christmas morning.
Just as he started for his sleigh
One eve, in old December,
He turned to Mistress Santa Claus
And said, "Did you remember
About that fine new Paris doll
For wee Dot in the city?
I must not fail to take that gift,
'Twould be a dreadful pity."
It was early in the morning,
One day in old December;
A very happy, joyous day
That children all remember,
When Santa, on his mission fleet,
To the nursery came creeping,
And left the fine new Paris doll
Among the others, sleeping.
The holly and the mistletoe
Were bright this winter morning;
One stocking filled from top to toe
The mantel was adorning.
A Christmas tree hung full with gifts,
While underneath, reposing
On an upholstered rocking chair,
The Paris doll was dozing.
Then suddenly from out the gloom
Dot's other dolls came peeping,
Their hair uncombed, their dresses torn,
And noses red with weeping;
They talked in whispers soft and low,
But tones that grew quite scornful,
About the fate that was to greet
This stranger, sad and mournful.
There were Annabel and Bessie,
That came one cold December;
They hobbled round with broken backs
From falling on the fender.
Then Tommy, Grace, and baby Ruth,
All came one birthday party,
And Rose and Don a year ago,
With Santa Claus so hearty.
They all assembled round the tree,
And then with manners shocking
They pinched and shook the Paris doll,
And cried in words so mocking -
"Why, don't you know, you stupid thing,
Dot won't care for another,
She has received this Christmas morn
A dear, sweet baby brother!"
Little Christmas Carollers
ReplyDeleteWe are a band of carollers,
We march through frost and snow,
But care not for the weather
As on our way we go.
At every hall or cottage
That stands upon our way,
We stop to give the people
Best wishes for the day.
We pray a merry Christmas,
Made bright by Christmas cheer,
With peace, and hope, and gladness
And all they may hold dear.
And for all those that happen
To pass us on our way
We have a smile, and wish them
A merry Christmas-day.
Christmas Joys
ReplyDeleteBy Joanna Fuchs
Evergreen boughs that fill our homes
With fragrant Christmas scents,
Hearts filled with the loving glow
That Christmas represents;
Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed,
Festive holly berry,
Little faces bright with joy,
Loved ones being merry;
Parties, songs, beribboned gifts,
Silver bells that tinkle,
Christmas trees and ornaments,
Colorful lights that twinkle;
Relatives waiting with open arms
To smile and hug and kiss us;
These are some of the special joys
That come along with Christmas.
Icicles
ReplyDeleteWe are little icicles
Melting in the sun.
Can you see our tiny teardrops
Falling one by one?
Piccola
ReplyDeletePoor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear
What happened to Piccola, children dear?
’T is seldom Fortune such favor grants
As fell to this little maid of France.
’T was Christmas-time, and her parents poor
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door,
Striving with poverty’s patient pain
Only to live till summer again.
No gifts for Piccola! Sad were they
When dawned the morning of Christmas-day;
Their little darling no joy might stir,
St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her!
But Piccola never doubted at all
That something beautiful must befall
Every child upon Christmas-day,
And so she slept till the dawn was gray.
And full of faith, when at last she woke,
She stole to her shoe as the morning broke;
Such sounds of gladness filled all the air,
’T was plain St. Nicholas had been there!
In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild:
Never was seen such a joyful child.
“See what the good saint brought!” she cried,
And mother and father must peep inside.
Now such a story who ever heard?
There was a little shivering bird!
A sparrow, that in at the window flew,
Had crept into Piccola’s tiny shoe!
“How good poor Piccola must have been!”
She cried, as happy as any queen,
While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed,
And danced with rapture, she was so charmed.
Children, this story I tell to you,
Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true.
In the far-off land of France, they say,
Still do they live to this very day.
Christmas Time
ReplyDeleteChristmas time for boys and girls
Is a happy day,
For we go to grandmamma's
And eat and sing and play.
Grandma does not say to us—
"Stop that horrid noise,"
'Cause she understands we can't,
When we're "only boys."
And she lets the girls play house,
In the garret old,
And when they strew things around,
Grandma doesn't scold.
But we ought to pick them up,
Even on Christmas day,
For we shouldn't make kind friends
Trouble with our play.
Yes, we love the Christmas time
Best of all the year,
We have waited for it long,
Now, at last, it's here.
by M.N.B.
Christmas Joys
ReplyDeleteEvergreen boughs that fill our homes
With fragrant Christmas scents,
Hearts filled with the loving glow
That Christmas represents;
Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed,
Festive holly berry,
Little faces bright with joy,
Loved ones being merry;
Parties, songs, beribboned gifts,
Silver bells that tinkle,
Christmas trees and ornaments,
Colorful lights that twinkle;
Relatives waiting with open arms
To smile and hug and kiss us;
These are some of the special joys
That come along with Christmas.
By Joanna Fuchs
The Snowman
ReplyDeleteOne day we built a snowman,
We built him out of snow;
You should have seen how fine he was,
All white from top to toe.
We poured some water over him,
To freeze his legs and ears;
And when we went indoors to bed,
We thought he'd last for years.
But, in the night a warmer kind
Of wind began to blow;
And Jack Frost cried and ran away,
And with him went the snow.
When we went out next morning
To bid our friend "Good Day",
There wasn't any snowman there...
He'd melted right away!
Winter-Time
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
Come skating
ReplyDeleteThey said come skating;
They said it's so nice.
They said come skating;
I'd done it twice.
They said come skating;
It sounded nice.
I wore roller-
They meant ice.
By: Shel Silverstein