I’ve been so desperate to receive my order of 311 Fairy Tales taken from their earliest prints, that I just about managed to hold it together before their arrival today.  To my glee, I have not been disappointed with this disk filled with PDFs of these rare and out of print books.  Don’t ask me why, but the first book I chose to look through was titled: “Children’s Rhymes, Children’s Games, Children’s Songs, Children’s Stories (1904)” … yes, that’s right – 1904 !

Having looked through it, I found myself saying – wooow … wooow … wooow, every few moments.  I just can’t help it; it’s hard to not keep in mind that these were written more than a century ago.  It awes me, especially when I wonder how the original authors would feel knowing how iconic their rhymes, stories, songs and games became.

Amongst the poems that I have read so far though, I can’t help but laugh at the clear meanings behind them.  In this post, therefore, I’m going to share some of my favourites with you :-):


Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,

Stole a pig and away he ran;

Pig was eat, and Tom was beat,

And Tom went roaring down the street.

*Poor Tom.  This is so clearly a time of corporal punishment !*



Little Polly Flinders

Sat among the cinders,

Warming her pretty little toes,

Her mother came and caught her,

And whipped her little daughter

For spoiling her nice new clothes.

*Poor Polly.  It’s not like the whipping would have kept her new clothes nice.*



Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief,

Taffy came to my house, and stole a piece of beef;

I went to Taffy’s house, Taffy was not at home;

Taffy came to my house, and stole a marrow-bone.

I went to Taffy’s house, Taffy was in bed,

I took up a broomstick and flung it at his head.

*So very violent and yet I can’t help but laugh!*


And now for my favourite:


There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do;

She gave them some broth, without any bread,

And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

*Now I’m not great at interpreting poetry; but I think she put her children into the broth to cook and “whipped them all soundly” until they were dead – don’t you think so too ? … No … just me ? … Let’s just pretend that’s what that poem means :-D*



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