Little Flo's Letter

A sweet little baby brother 

has come to live with Flo 

She wanted him brought to the table 

So he could eat and grow 

You must wait for a while, said grandma 

In answer to her plea 

For a dear little thing that has no teeth 

Can't eat like you and me 

Why hasn't he got teeth grandma?

Asked Flo in great surprise 

Oh my, but isn't it funny 

No teeth but nose and eyes 

That afternoon to a corner 

With paper, pen and ink 

Went Flo saying 

Don't talk to me 

Or you'll disturb my think 

I'm writing a letter grandma 

And it's got to go tonight 

And because it's very important 

I want to get it right 

At last, the letter was finished, a beautiful sight to see 

Directed up to Heaven, then Flo read it to me:

Dear God, 

The baby you sent us is very nice and sweet, 

but because you forgot his toofies 

the poor little thing can't eat. 

That's why I'm writing this letter, 

on purpose to let you know, 

please come and finish our baby 

That's all, from little Flo

I don't want to play in your yard

I found this rhyme on the Internet.

Once there lived side-by-side two little maids
Both of them dressed alike, hair down in braids
Both in white pinafores, stockings of red
Little sunbonnets tied to each pretty head
When school was over secrets they'd tell
Whispering arm in arm down in the dell
One day a quarrel came, big tears were shed
“You can't play in our yard”, but the other said,


I don't want to play in your yard
I don't like you any more
You'll be sorry when you see me
Sliding down our cellar door
You shan't holler down our rain barrel
You shan't climb our apple tree
I don't want to play in your yard
If you won't be good to me.


Next day two little maids, each other miss
Quarrels are soon made up, sealed with a kiss
Then hand in hand again, tears no more flow
Friends all thro' life to be, lovingly they go
School days soon pass away, sorrows and bliss
But love remembers yet, quarrel and kiss
In dreams of childish days they hear the cry
“You can't play in our yard”, and the old reply,


I don't want to play in your yard
I don't like you any more
You'll be sorry when you see me
Sliding down our cellar door
You shan't holler down our rain barrel
You shan't climb our apple tree
I don't want to play in your yard
If you won't be good to me.

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