Best Nursery Rhyme Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Nursery Rhyme poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of nursery rhyme poems written by PoetrySoup members
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NURSERY RHYME
by Lee Sr., James Edward
Solutions To Old Nursery Rhyme Complaints
by Gulley, Sharon
African American Nursery Rhyme
by Odom, Valerie
In the corner - nonsense nursery rhyme
by Green, Chris
Nefarious Nursery Rhyme
by Green, Chris
Nursery Rhyme Cold Cases
by hoffman, cheryl
A NURSERY RHYME REVISED
by Ashton, Darryl
Up to date version of an old nursery rhyme lol
by Roberts, Seren
A REVISED NURSERY RHYME
by Ashton, Darryl
Nursery rhyme
by Thapa, Sudesh
View all new Nursery Rhyme Poems
The Best Nursery Rhyme Poems
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Nursery Rhyme Poem
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Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015
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Jack and Jill went up the hill
With thoughts of making love
Jack hadn’t got a condom
So cut a finger off Jill’s glove
The glove was far too small for him
And it didn’t fit his todger
Now they are proud parents
Of a baby they called Rodger!
1st October 2016
Another poem written after being inspired by Ilene Bauer's poem three blind mic
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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It was not long ago
By the reck'ning of things
You were yet a wee one
Yet under our wing-
But now you have grown up
Like snow follows Spring -
Now you're a Mother,
And all Mothers must sing.
All Mothers must sing,
Though not always with voice;
'Tis a matter of Truth,
Not a question of Choice.
They sing with their hearts
And they sing with their souls
They sing while they're young,
And they sing when they're old.
All Mothers, all Mothers, all Mothers
Must sing,
Some sing but a whisper,
Some make the walls ring.
They know that they hold
The most Precious of things;
So all Mothers, all Mothers, all Mothers
Must sing.
They sing with their smiles
And their hearts and their sighs,
They sing us to bed
And they sing as we rise;
They sing in response
To our smallest of cries
And all with the brilliance of love in their eyes.
So from now to the time
You are grey just like me
Darling, sing to your babes
As I sang to thee;
They shall grow to be kind,
To be honest and true;
They shall grow to be Wonderful,
Just like you.
All Mothers must sing
All Mothers must sing
All Mothers, all Mothers, all Mothers
Must sing;
Some sing but a whisper,
Some make the walls ring;
They know that they hold
The most Precious of things;
So all Mothers, all Mothers, all Mothers
Must sing,,,,
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2016
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An apple is Red,
I like eating bread,
Banana is yellow,
I am jolly fellow,
Pear is green,
I am neat and clean,
Coconut is brown,
I am little clown,
All fruits are nice,
They make us healthy and wise!!
Copyright © Neha batra | Year Posted 2016
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It's up there
The star that shines for me
Named on the day I was born
My guiding light, shines free
When I was a baby
My mam sang to me when I cried
Twinkle twinkle little star
Said was my very own lullaby
I look for this star for guidance
In my every day
I look up and ask am I doing things right
I know the answer right away
Do what you heart is telling you
Look up and see my light
I am just a twinkling star
Yes I am showing you it's alright.
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
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Humpty Dumpty fell off the top of the wall
He got on the phone and gave his lawyer a call
With help from the lawyer and litigation men
Humpty is rich and won’t have to work again!
09~30~16
Inspired by Three blind mice poem by Ilene Bauer
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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Old King Troll
Had a very long pole
And a very long pole had he
He called for his wife (she’s his trouble and strife)
And he called for his mistresses three
King Troll sat in the middle … his wife said you’re on the fiddle
This fact King Troll couldn’t deny
All the women took a swipe at him and gave him a black eye!
Alexis challenged me to do a parody of Old King Cole nursery rhyme
10~03~16
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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Sing a song of sickness after a barrel full of rye
Two men drank the whiskey and soon they were pie eyed
They woke up in a prison cell; their heads began to ring
Now they know the consequences too much alcohol can bring
Sadly in their drunken state they’d got into a fight
Bill gave Ted a left hook - he looked a sorry sight
When their hangovers were over they stood before the law
Each received a hefty fine and now their heads are sore!
San Woo challenged me to write a parody of her favourite nursery rhyme ... sing a song of sixpence
10~02~16
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
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A furry little caterpillar
Crawled onto my knee
He turned into a butterfly
And landed in a tree
Beside him was a humming bird
Sucking pollen from a rose
When down fell an inchworm
That landed on my nose
A little baby bunny rabbit
Hopped onto my lap
When I started petting him
His ears began to flap
I came across a rooster
Sitting on a fence
A sign said "you can pet him
For only fifty cents"
As I peeked into a sty
I heard a great big thud
I saw the three little piggy's
Rolling in the mud
I looked up in the sky
And I saw a lonesome goose
I whistled "where are you flying to"
He replied. "to visit Dr. Seuss
Copyright © charles messina | Year Posted 2018
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I chanced upon Polly Wolly
Walking one day after school
Clearly without her doodle
Something she thought she'd never lose
She told me she had sat it down
As it was out of tune
And when doodles sound more like poodles
What else is there to do
So I took a hold of Polly
And led her by the hand
Downtown to the lost and found
Where all that's lost is left
She went on and on about her doodle
Like a long lost friend
She asked the lass behind the desk
If she'd ever see her doodle again
The lass asked the doodles color scheme
And how large it was in size
Seems people lose their doodles often
If not most all the time
When they handed her her doodle back
There really wasn't much to say
As Polly Wolly and her doodle
Waddled arm in arm merrily away
Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2017
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Bring me a child to eat
I'm too weak to stand on my feet
All I need is meat
So bring me a child to eat.
Copyright © Jessica Amanda Salmonson | Year Posted 2018
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You shouldn't poke at monkeys
unless you're a dummkopf
Who gets precisely what's deserved --
your fingers bitten off.
Copyright © Jessica Amanda Salmonson | Year Posted 2018
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Baby doesn't like the 'peases'.
She spits them out, as she pleases.
I still have that childish vice
But spitting peas isn't nice.
Avoiding them is hard to do.
They're in the pot pie and the stew.
So, I pick them out one by one
But pea-picking is not fun.
Give me a break. I cannot take
To even smell them on the make.
Cold in salad or piping hot,
Hold the peas. Peas porridge, not!
January 11, 2018
For Kevin Shaw's contest
Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2018
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Nursery Rhyme Poem
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In the bushes lurked a man
Keeping handy
Bits of candy
Luring children in the bushes
Where he hit them,
Scratched them, bit them.
If a man hides in the bushes
Don't go near him
If you hear him
In the bushes with a club
He will beat you,
Cook you, eat you.
This is another unpublished early poem, circa 1969, from the forever-after ongoing series "Lucifera's Questionable Daycare Poems and Stories."
Copyright © Jessica Amanda Salmonson | Year Posted 2018
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One cent, two cents,
Nickel and dime
Two bits, four bits,
A dollar this time.
Ship me a grasshopper
Do me a crime
Fly like a whippoorwill
O'er Anaheim.
Copyright © Jessica Amanda Salmonson | Year Posted 2018
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On the ivories there are ebony themes
But first the lass learns her musical abc's
She's playing a rhapsody in her dreams
As she falls asleep on the keys
On an enchanted melody she rests
As a song floats on a passing cloud
She is on a musical quest
To play those notes and do them proud
When she awakens she'll make the keys chime
By playing "Mary had a little lamb"
It is her favorite nursery rhyme
A lovely little ditty on the baby gran'
She plays that tune every now and then
And then back to sleep she goes again
---
11-2-18
Tell Me a Story 2 Contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2018
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When Old Mother Hubbard
Examined her cupboard
And found not a scrap there to munch on...
Not one morsel that clung
To an ort or a crumb…
She felt foolish and dumb
And stood sucking her thumb
While her dog, Butch, got nothing for luncheon.
"She forgot to go shopping again," grumbled he.
She just scratched his ears sighing,
"Sorry, pal. C'est la vie"
When pangs of hunger are felt,
Humans tighten their belt,
But poor Butch started howling
As his stomach was growling,
For a mastiff has needs to be regularly fed.
So... since there was no baloney…
And... since she was nice and bony…
Mother Hubbard wound up on the menu instead.
This tale has a moral,
As some nursery rhymes do,
And this one's a little bit gruesome, it's true:
A pet owner's job's
To protect not neglect him,
So feed yours each mealtime,
For if too long overdue,
Your "Butch" might be inclined
To make a meal out of you.
Copyright © Jim Slaughter | Year Posted 2018
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I kept those little pigs alive
to stall the beasty, pursed to huff,
while piglets fled and still survive.
They live immortal and contrive
the hungry masher to rebuff.
I kept those little pigs alive.
Their only goal was to deprive,
escaping sometimes in the buff,
the piglets fled and still survive.
My story told again to five,
while kiddies shivered at the chuff,
I kept those little pigs alive.
In rapt attention they arrive
to hear the tale, told off the cuff
of pigs who ran and still survive.
My sound effects resembled jive
as kids' excitement gathered fluff;
I kept those little pigs alive,
the ones who fled and still survive.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
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Monday’s child will slap your face,
Tuesday’s child is a disgrace,
Wednesday’s child stamps on your toe,
Thursday’s child just won’t go,
Friday’s child is most unforgiving,
Saturday’s child won’t work for a living,
And as for the child that’s born on a Sunday -
– they’ll tell you lies and steal your pay.
Originally posted on my blog with a supporting cartoon & story, which can be seen here: http://wp.me/p2mUkP-yc
Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2014
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Nursery Rhyme Poem
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My Monster
Every week on Good Friday I get restless
Palpitations rise for my week end disasters
A monster boldly barges into my silent abode
Depriving me of my peaceful slumber
Crash! Now which crockery has ended its life?
The moment I reach the dreaded site
Littered remnants of mugs and glasses
Sprayed on the kitchen floor
Having an afternoon nap is a crime indeed
The dining tablecloths are scrooped down
And I curse my heavy eyelids for drugging me
I wake up to run and my shoes are not there
The good Lord save me! My kitchen cabins
Are invaded, explored and ransacked
The bright packages are crushed and ripped
Salty and sweety snacks carpet the freshly scrubbed floor
I pads, mobile phones, remote controls vanish
I magically recover my drowning hopes
When their batteries are over
My heart beats louder than the speakers
Strumming the beats of nursery rhymes
Till tiny flakes start peeling off the quaky roof
The iridescent walls showcase
The world's finest art repertoire
Nothing short of an international gallery of art
The monster is finally trapped on the garden swing
Smiling gleefully with an outstretched arm
All frowns erase when the two year old
Bob cut tomboy dramatically wails
Granny! Granny! Granny! Granny!
Contest: My Monster
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
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Ten little golden girls swung from a vine
One branch broke, and then there were nine.
Nine little golden girls went to skate
One fell through a crack, and then there were eight.
Eight little golden girls dined on some chevon
One's dish was raw, and then there were seven.
Seven little golden girls stacked some old bricks
One was hit in the head, and then there were six.
Six little golden girls decided to take a drive
One struck a tree, and then there were five.
Five little golden girls went out to shore
One took a nosedive, and then there were four.
Four little golden girls went out for tea
One was poisoned, and then there were three.
Three little golden girls sailed in a canoe
Then came an abrupt wind; one could not swim, and then there were two.
Two little golden girls went out shopping for some fun
The little girl got stuck in a store, and then there was one.
One little golden girl stumbled upon a gun
She fortuitously pulled the trigger, and then there were none.
Written and posted on April 4th, 2016
By: Michelle Corbin
Copyright © Michelle Corbin | Year Posted 2016
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(ohw! ohw! ohwwwww!)
The wolves are out tonight.
“Tread lightly”, echoes father’s words,
“and stay clear of their sight”.
Excited by, my first hallo
to stars and moon so bright.
Excited him allowing me,
to come out on this night.
Caref’ly, had I listened to,
the lessons that he gave.
In underground my classroom
had I sat and well-behaved.
Now here, amongst the shrubbery
my small heart pounding proud.
Near the husky voices of,
the wolves in packs so loud.
Silently, on hinds we rise,
with noses in the air.
Detecting in, which way they’ll path,
not tempting to go there.
Crossing the bridge at Hunters Lane;
father leading way.
And there, under the bright moonlight,
we scout our waiting prey.
“Tread lightly”, echoes father’s words,
“and stay clear of their sight”.
Once home;
upon our rodent dish,
my first true trophy won.
Small eyes now flutter sleep.
My father heart so proud.
“Tread lightly”, echoes father’s words.
I blow the candle out.
Copyright © Gavin Joachims | Year Posted 2015
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Red hood
Girl good
Nan ill
No pill
Mum dumb
No chum
Wolf bad
Bit mad
…………………………………………………………………..
Wolf munch
Nan lunch
Wolf chew
Red too
Huntsman
Has plan
Wolf snip
Unzip
Red free
Whoopee
Nan out
Big shout
Wolf dead
Behead
Copyright © Shane Cooper | Year Posted 2015
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Mary had a little lamb
The birth was quite a sensation
It should go down in the history books
She needed a lot of sedation
Three little piggies went tripping along
To the butcher, they were the target
Who was bent on chopping these piggies up
To sell 'em at the local market
Baa baa black sheep have you any wool
Of course the answer is yes
They're sheep, that's a real silly question
Three bags full would be my guess
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
At my age, you must be jazzing me
It's been a long time since I was nimble or quick
Was probably just a wee tike of three
Georgie Porgie pudding and pie
The current trend is over eating
No wonder obesity is rampant in the world
Bad habits our kids we've been teaching
Mary had a little lamb
She also had a goat
Mary's been messing with the animals again
Naughty Mary, I here do quote
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
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Said contrary and crabby Miss Muffet
“Hey eight-legs! Kiss my bare Tuffet!”
From above and beyond, Charlotte dropped a fine line
And bit the old bag where the sun doesn’t shine…
For Andrea’s clerihew contest
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014