All smudgy on my fingertips
And dripping down my skirt.
A famous pirate captain
By the name of Bloody Bill
Was marching up the sidewalk
On the old Spadina Hill.
He had a sort of eye-patch
That was caked and flaked in blood,
And he ground his teeth together
And he spat out bloody crud.
He wore a bloody dagger
In his muddy, bloody belt,
And on his back I saw the track
Of thirty bloody welts,
And then he slooshed his soggy boots
Till blood ran down the hill;
I figured, by the look of things,
It must be Bloody Bill.
And Bloody Bill was roaring drunk
And Bloody Bill was loud
And Bloody Bill was picking fights
With people in the crowd.
First I tried to walk around him
Like a common passer-by;
I’m quite a gentle person
And I wouldn’t hurt a fly,
But Bloody Bill got wilder, like
A bully and a crook,
And by the way, I meant to say
He had a bloody hook.
He spied a frail old gentleman
And seized him by the feet
And shook him upside-down until
His change rolled in the street,
And then he pitched the gentleman
Across a grotty sewer,
And no one had the nerve to speak
Severely to the boor.
Now, I was out to buy some milk
To take home to my Mum,
But I could see I’d have to teach
Some manners to this bum
For pirates are a pleasure
In the safety of a book,
But meeting one is much less fun,
Especially with a hook.
And so I turned to face him,
With a sigh of utter boredom,
And flicked my little finger, and
Immediately floored him.
And holding back a yawn, I seized him
By his smelly snout,
And I flipped his nose, and flicked his toes,
And turned him inside out,
And wound him round a tree I found
And beat with might and main,
Till all the booze and tobacco juice
Had had a chance to drain.
(I know that bullies often come
And boss around a kid.
But that’s the way I do things:
So that’s the thing I did.)
I pelted him with melted cheese
And fourteen devilled eggs;
I tied spaghetti to his hair,
Lasagna to his legs,
And then, because I didn’t like
The way he’d used his fists,
I danced upon his ears, until
He asked me to desist.
And when I turned him right-side-out
He scuttled down the hill
And never once looked back at me –
Just ran, did Bloody Bill.
And me, I washed my fingers
Of the blood and scum and rum,
And bought a quart of two per cent
And took it home to Mum.
So though I’d love to fight you,
I am really very shy,
And leaving you all black and blue
Would likely make me cry.
I don’t want to turn you inside-out,
Or wrap you round a tree:
Why don’t you take your strong right thumb
And suck it peacefully?
The Bratty Brother (Sister)
I dumped the bratty brother
In a shark-infested sea;
By dusk the sea was empty, and
The brat was home with me.
I mailed the bratty brother
To a jail in Moosonee;
The sobbing jailer mailed him back
The next day, C.O.D.
I wept, and hurled the bratty
Brother off the CN Tower;
He lolloped through the living room
In less than half an hour.
So now I keep my brother
In the furnace, nice and neat.
I can’t wait till December
When my Dad turns on the heat.
The Bedtime Concert
It’s a concert in the bedroom
With the aminals and toys,
And they think they’re making music
So you mustn’t call it noise:
Someone’s beating on the bucket
And he’s beat it half to bits
And it’s Drumming Monk McGonigle!
I think he’s lost his wits.
And old Hannah’s got my trumpet,
With the wrong end on her snout –
Every time she tries to blow, a sort of
Sneezy sound comes out;
And the aminals keep playing
Like as if they never guessed
That the concert in the bedroom
Isn’t what you call the best.
And old Bigfoot’s got a whistle, and
The whistle never stops,
So that every time it doesn’t, I could
But the aminals keep marching
And they must have marched a mile
And they’re all of them so serious
They make me want to smile.
It’s a concert in the bedroom,
It’s a racket in my head,
And pretty soon I’ll have to come
And chase them off to bed.
But they’re all my special Aminals,
Though both my ears are sore,
So I guess I’ll let them play for maybe
Half a minute more.
Goofus
Sometimes my mind is crazy
Sometimes my mind is dumb
Sometimes it sings like angel wings
And beeps like kingdom come.
My mother calls me Mary
My father calls me Fred
My brother calls me Stumblebum
And kicks me out of bed.
Go tell it on a T-shirt
Go tell a TV screen:
My summy’s turning tummersaults
And I am turning green.
Don’t come to me in April
Don’t come to me in Guelph
Don’t come to me in anything
Except your crummy self.
I haven’t got a dollar
I haven’t got a dime
I haven’t got a thing to do
But write these goofy rhymes.
Sometimes my mind is crazy
Sometimes my mind is dumb
Sometimes it sings like angel wings
And beeps like kingdom come.
The Secret Song
I’ve got a secret
Song I sing
That’s secret and special
As anything.
It’s sort of a magical
Whispery fizz,
But I’m never quite sure
What the tune part is –
So I jump ahead
From the stop at the start
To the squeak at the very
Ending part
Which is actually more
Of a whistling and dinning,
And everyone thinks
That it’s still the beginning.
And I’m never quite sure
How the words of it go,
But I just leave them out
And they don’t even show.
And it always works,
And nobody knows
How my magical, secret
Sing-song goes.
About the Authors
Dennis Lee is Toronto’s first poet laureate, song lyricist for Fraggle Rock, and author of such glorious coll
ections as Alligator Pie, Jelly Belly, The Ice Cream Store, and Bubblegum Delicious. His poetry is known and loved around the world.
Frank Newfeld has designed, illustrated, and art-directed more than 600 books, including four of his own. His extraordinary contributions to the book arts in Canada have earned over 170 awards.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Copyright
Garbage Delight
Text © Dennis Lee, 1977
Illustrations © Frank Newfeld, 1977
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.
EPub Edition © MAY 2013 ISBN: 9781443428170
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
Originally published in 1977 by the Macmillan Company of Canada Ltd.
First published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd in this hardcover edition: 2012
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
2 Bloor Street East, 20th Floor
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M4W 1A8
www.harpercollins.ca
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Lee, Dennis, 1939–
Garbage delight : classic edition / Dennis Lee ; Frank
Newfeld, illustrator.
ISBN 978-1-44341-155-4
1. Children’s poetry, Canadian (English).
I. Newfeld, Frank, 1928– II. Title.
PS8523.E3G37 2012 jC811’.54 C2012-900845-1
DWF 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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