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John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Bairbre (---.bas503.dsl.esat.net)
Date: June 29, 2004 06:10AM

I'm looking for a child's poem about the amazing no. of things a boy carries around in his pocket. It was in a book of poems by John D. Sheridan called Stirabout Lane.

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Hugh Clary (12.73.175.---)
Date: June 29, 2004 12:10PM

Probably still under copyright, but here's the book if you want it.

[tinyurl.com] />

... and some words by Alan Beck
Posted by: ilza (---.user.ajato.com.br)
Date: June 29, 2004 12:50PM

what is a boy
alan beck - circa 1954

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood,
we find a delightful creature of a boy.

Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors.
But all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of
every minute of every day and to protest with noise
(their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and
the adult males pack them off to bed at night!

Boys are found everywhere: on top of, underneath, inside of,
climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to.
Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters
and brothers tolerate them and adults ignore them. A boy is
truth with dirt on its face, beauty with a cut on its finger,
wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the hope of the
future with a frog in its pocket. When you are busy, a boy
is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jungle of noise.

When you want him to make an impression, his brain turns
into jelly or else he becomes a jungle creature, bound on
destroying the world, and himself with it. A boy is a
composite. He has the appetite of a horse, the digestion
of a sword-swallower, the imagination of Paul Bunyan, the
energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a
cat, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap,
the enthusiasm of a fire cracker, and when he make something,
he has five thumbs on each hand. He likes ice cream,
movies, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street,
woods, water in its natural habitat, large animals, trains,
Saturday mornings, and fire engines. He is not much for
Sunday school, composing, music lessons, neckties, barbers,
girls, overcoats, adults or bedtime.

Nobody else is so early to rise or so late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs, and
breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty
knife, a half-eaten apple, 3 feet of string, 2 gumdrops, a
five-cent slingshot, a chunk of unknown substance, and one
supersonic code ring with a secret compartment. A boy is
a magical creature - you can lock him out of your workshop,
but you can't lock him out of your heart! You can get him
out of your study, but you can't lock him out of your mind!
Might as well give up! He is your captor, your jailer,
your boss, and your master. But when your dreams tumble
down and the world is a mess, he can put together the broken
pieces in just a twinkle with a few magic words...I LOVE YOU!

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Bairbre (---.bas502.dsl.esat.net)
Date: June 29, 2004 06:03PM

Hugh - thanks a million - I didn't know about abebooks - I have been trying to get Stirabout Lane on Amazon for months! I've bought the two copies - thanks again.

What Is A Boy, poem
Posted by: Judith Palmer (---.proxy.aol.com)
Date: August 15, 2004 12:04AM

I have been searching for this poem ready for framing...in a nice format for a child's room.

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Hugh Clary (---.denver-05rh15-16rt.co.dial-access.att.net)
Date: August 15, 2004 01:09PM

So ... cut-and-paste it into your preferred word processor, add bells and whistles, choose a font, then print it?

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: PaulaMc (---.in-addr.btopenworld.com)
Date: August 16, 2004 03:32PM

There's an old Scots poem called Contentment

The hoose is a’ quate an’ the weans are in bed
Jean sits by the fire wi’ her needle an’ thread;
Sae thrang wi’ her thim’le that seldom she speaks;
She’s patchin’ a hole in oor wee Bobbie’s breeks.

An’ as she sits shooin’ she gies a bit smile;
“What’s this in his pooches?” she says in a while.
“Juist rype them an’ see lass,” says I, for a splore.
An’ oot on the table comes wee Bobbie’s store.

A fankled bit string, then a plunker an’ glassie;
Wi’ ane or twa bools an’ the heid o’ a brassie;
The warks o’ a watch that had gane tapselteerie,
A pirn he had whittled to mak’ him a peerie;

A wee tait o’ putty, a sooker, a sling,
A knife wi’oot blades, an’ a puckle mair string,
A wee bit slate pencil, an’, oh! the sly loon,
The crust o’ a piece that was hard tae get doon.

We pit them a’ back, an’ I lauch to his mither;
“Whit’s treasure to ane may be trash to anither.
An’ to us the possessions the pridefu’ man seeks
Are like trash in the pooches o’ wee Bobbie’s breeks.”

Translation available if required!!!!

Posted by: ilza (---.162.245.85.user.ajato.com.br)
Date: August 17, 2004 09:34AM

( abe is great)

when you get the books, will you be so kind to post at least a line of the poem by Sheridan ?

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Bairbre (---.bas502.dsl.esat.net)
Date: August 21, 2004 02:47PM

Timothy Dan

Timothy Dan
Is a very rich man
And he keeps all his wealth in his pocket:
Four buttons, a box,
The keys of two clocks,
And the chain of his grandmother Margaret's locket;
A big piece of string
(It's a most useful thing),
A watch without hands,
And three rubber bands,
Five glassy marbles,
Some tail-ends of chalk,
A squeaker that once
Made a golliwog talk,
A broken-down penknife
With only one blade,
And a little toy boat
That his grandfather made.

You'd never believe
(Hearing such a long list)
That there's room in each pocket
For one little fist;
You'd never believe
That the smallest of boys
Could carry so much
In his wee corduroys.

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: marian2 (---.range81-152.btcentralplus.com)
Date: August 23, 2004 05:00AM

That's lovely - thanks very much for posting it, Bairbre. It reminds me of this:

Hector the Collector
Shel Silverstein

Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring.
Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.
Old chipped vases, half shoelaces,
Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boats that wouldn't float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot.
Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
'Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul--
Loved them more then shining diamonds,
Loved them more then glistenin' gold.
Hector called to all the people,
"Come and share my treasure trunk!"
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked ... and called it junk.

Re: John D Sheridan/ boys with string etc in pocket
Posted by: Bairbre (---.bas503.dsl.esat.net)
Date: August 23, 2004 05:41AM

So many times the 'trying-to-be-tidy' mother in me nearly gets the better of the 'treasure-trunk-owner's mother'!!!

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