Poems

One That Got Away

91 Comments

It was a blustery fishing opener again this year, but at least Minnesota’s Democratic Governor (Mark Dayton) and the Republican leaders of the House (Kurt Zellers) and Senate (Matt Dean) got together to support the state’s tourism effort by going out just after midnight to not catch any fish.

I haven’t seen any reports that put the three alone in the same small boat, though that would be an ideal situation to promote a settlement of the state’s 5 billion dollar budget shortfall. Or it could start an all out war. It would make a great scene in a movie, anyway.

The whole idea of three in a boat reminded me of the classic children’s poem by Edward Field, Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Offered here with sincere apologies to the author and everyone else. (Including Eugene Field, the real author of the original poem – Thanks for the correction, Verrily Sherrilee)

Dayton, Zellers and Dean one night
sailed off on a big pontoon –
Sailed on a lake in a mid may gale
By the light of a northern moon.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish and to accomplish
what they said could never be.
At least not under Pawlenty!”
Said Dayton,
Zellers
And Dean.

The old moon laughed and winked an eye
as they rocked on the frothy lake,
And the wind picked up as the three did try
to do some give and take.
The little stars, worth a billion each
they sparkled the whole night through.
But never enough could just one reach,
without the other two.
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
Dayton,
Zellers
And Dean.

One said “taxes,” two said “cuts!”
To the stars as the waves did rise.
They barked and they howled, as would three old mutts
Avoiding compromise;
‘Twas such a predictable path they sailed
To get come round to where they’d be
At the very same spot from whence they’d sailed
Way back in January —
And I shall name you the fishermen three:
Dayton
Zellers
And Dean.

There’s a fourth verse which I didn’t have time to attempt, so you’re welcome to give it a try. Or tell us about your favorite childhood poem.

91 thoughts on “One That Got Away”

  2. the difficulty is it the apperance
    we must appear stong and firm
    the party platform requires adherance
    and it is a 4 or 6 year term
    if two allow taxes and one allows cuts
    the other side will gnash in defeat
    so there with no if ands or buts
    they stand firm to maintain their seats
    wouldn’t want to defame you fisherman three
    dayton
    zellers
    and dean

    Like

    Reply

  3. Rise and Shine Baboons:

    We had a lovely Blevins Book Club meeting yesterday on the sunny Southward deck of Lower Case tim. Today I am sporting an equally lovely sunburn turning to tan. I’ll work on it more while planting a few things this afternoon.

    Meanwhile, I’m afraid I am from a prose family. Unless a poem was sing-songy silly my parents did not seem to do early childhood poetry. You know the kind. “Roses are red, Violets are blue…” Then when I was the parent I continued to read prose to my son, with “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” and “Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel Mary Ann” getting top prose billing.

    With the exception, of course, of my favorite book, some of the Sing-Songy verses which I still remember. ***Please note*** I was a daddy’s girl as a little one. My father’s request was, “Hide that book! I’m tired of it.” Title: What Do Daddies Do All Day? Date: 1955-1958.

    What do daddies do all day?
    Daddies work while children play.

    Some daddies work outdoors.
    Other daddies work in stores.

    Some daddies put out fires.
    Other daddies work on big, high wires.

    It went on less memorably from there and ended with a mirror on the back page that I would look into to answer the question, “What do YOU want to do some day?”

    I don’t think I had the concept of Poet or Clinical Social Worker or Psychotherapist yet. I would say teacher or secretary or ballet dancer.

    Like I said. I’m a prose kinda girl. Wish it was different, but it’s not. So I enjoy Dale’s creative offerings. Thanks Dale.

    Like

    Reply

  4. This is a favorite from “Free to Be You and Me” called “Ladies First” (pretty sure it’s Shel Silverstein – a favorite from when I was a kid):

    Marlo Thomas and friends had a good thing going with “Free to Be You and Me” – I think I still have the vinyl somewhere (also had the matching book with all of the poems and lyrics).

    Like

    Reply

  5. Morning!

    The only poetry in our house was this bedtime prayer:
    Now I lay me down to sleep
    I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
    If I should die before I wake
    I pray the Lord my soul to take.

    My wife knew a variation of that.

    And the one now that sends Kelly and I into fits of giggles is this:
    Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear
    Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
    Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy was he?

    Like

    Reply

    1. i remember being out in yellowstone after the fire 20 years ago and telling my son that it was fuzzy wuzzy that started the fire and thats why he didn’t have any hair. it got burned off.

      Like

      Reply

    2. i also had a friend who would cry in fear at that particular prayer where it reminded him he was very likely to die before he woke. kind of like democrats and republicans in the same poem

      Like

      Reply

  6. Good morning to all:

    I’m not much of a poet, but I will give it a try.

    one said do good, the others said save the dough,
    will they keep the boat afloat?
    or to the bottom of the sea will they go?
    can a compromise be wrote?
    two said we can’t tax the wealthy to save the poor,
    the other said don’t let the rich be tax free
    will these three find their way to shore?
    or will they shink at sea?
    that’s the plight of the fishermen three
    Dayton
    Zellers
    and Dean

    Like

    Reply

      1. It was good to meet you, Jacque, and all the others who came as well as having a chance to get better aquainted with tim and see his very interesting home.

        Like

        Reply

  7. Ah, Dale, love how often the phrase “with apologies to the author” comes up here… I dub thee King of Parody. May have to print out and add it to guitar songbook!

    One book of poems we had was Sing a Song of Manners (I kid you not, I think my sister still has it) in which there were no songs, just these little jingles, and unfortunately I remember this one:
    Scrub the tub, scrub the tub; take a cloth and rub rub rub.
    Make it shine, make it shine; now you’re doing fine fine fine.
    Get that ring, get that ring; wipe it off with zing zing zing.
    That’s just right, that’s just right; leave a tub that’s white white white.
    (must have been written before all the colored bathtubs)

    I have a feeling more of these gems will surfact as the day progresses, and I apologize ahead of time if I post them here.

    Like

    Reply

  8. i noticed that dayon selected these folks
    from the ranks of reasonable opponents
    he omitted tim and michele and their tea party jokes
    about dumping those medicare dounuts

    they offer more stuff, reduce taxes besides
    its a recipe straight out of heaven
    between your ears they’d fill with tea party lies
    roll the dice hope for 7 or 11

    but the moons glad its not those fisherfolk three
    dayton
    pawlenty
    and bachman

    Like

    Reply

  9. Morning all! Just got back from walk w/ teenager and dogs (at teenager’s request). Waiting for it to be a smidge warmer to get started on yard work today.

    And I hate to be a stickler, but since I grew up in his hometown and have visited his house more than once, it’s actually EUGENE Field, not Edward. I used to have Wynken, Blynken and Nod memorized when I was a kid.

    Like

    Reply

  10. I’ve never seen a purple cow.
    I hope to never see one.
    But I can tell you anyhow,
    I’d rather see than be one.
    Gelett Burgess

    Like

    Reply

    1. VS That was my favorite poesm in 1st grade!

      I want to offer
      I’ve never seen a compassionate IR
      I truly hope to see one
      But I truly would prefer
      That one day there would be one
      BAB

      Like

      Reply

  11. My two childhood poems were Fuzzy Wuzzy (already noted) and this one. To my mind, they are variations on a common them:

    Halfway down the stairs
    Is a stair where I sit:
    There isn’t any other stair quite like it.
    I’m not at the bottom,
    I’m not at the top:
    So this is the stair where I always stop.

    Halfway up the stairs
    Isn’t up, and isn’t down.
    It isn’t in the nursery, it isn’t in the town:
    And all sorts of funny thoughts
    Run round my head:
    “It isn’t really anywhere! It’s somewhere else instead!”

    Like

    Reply

  12. Piet Hein was really a favorite growing up. I think I’ve quote this one here before, but it is an all-time classic:

    Timing Toast

    There’s an art to doing it.
    Never try to guess.
    Toast until it burns,
    then twenty second less.

    Like

    Reply

    1. Mornin’ all.

      I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Piet Hein’s Grooks had made it to this side of the pond when I arrived here many years ago . Growing up in Denmark, these small, clever poems, often with delicious plays on words and always accompanied by a whimsical drawing, were a staple. To this day I have a couple of .ceramic plaques with two of his Grooks hanging in my kitchen – in Danish of course. Here they are in translation:
      PROBLEMS
      Problems worthy
      of attack
      prove their worth
      by hitting back.

      and the other:

      LIVING IS –

      Living is
      a thing you do
      now or never –
      which do you?

      Like

      Reply

      2. I wish I could make that claim, but Piet Hein himself, with the assistance of Jens Arup, another writer (I believe from Norway) did the translations. The translations capture the essence of the original Danish poems. They are not word for word, literal translations. The rhymes are no coincidence.

        Like

        Reply

    2. Margaret… “Problems” is another of my favorites. I have three little books of Grooks that I’ve had since I was (much much) younger. I love how easy he made it seem to get to that little kernel of truth!

      Like

      Reply

  13. What about “On Top of Spaghetti”? There’s a great book of Canadian children’s poetry titled Alligator Pie that has been a favorite in our house. We also liked a British book of rhymes called Round and Round the Garden.

    Like

    Reply

      3. welcome margeret. the friendly banter is what we do here. sometimes intelligent sometimes like today.
        loved your comments on the piet heins pieces and the plates you have. good quotes.

        Like

        Reply

      4. Thanks tim. I’m enjoying contributing my 2 cents worth and also the virtual company of my fellow Babooners. Seems like a congenial and creative group. Do you all know each other personally?

        Like

        Reply

      5. We’ve only met through this blog, which is a story in itself that I won’t go into yet. Some of us have organized outings like a Russian Museum (TMORA) in Richfield, and now we have the “Blevens Book Club” that meets pretty much bi-monthly. (For more BBC info, go way to the top right of this “page” under Blogroll. A caveat: you don’t necessarily have to read the book, as only about half the conversation concerns that – sort of an excuse to get together.) We are usually able to catch the twin cities folks, but Babooners have been know to travel to Barb in Blackhoof’s goat farm up by Cloquet, and Mankato’s Rock Bend Folk Festival (organized in part by Krista in Waterville).

        Where do you live, and how did you find us?

        Like

        Reply

      6. Thanks for the info BiR. I’ve “known” Dale for quite some time. I used to bring folk musicians to the Morning Show for interviews, so I had met him any number of times. I was pretty sore when the Morning Show was cancelled, but at least Radio Heartland played some of the same music. Then he lost that job, and I was really angry. As a Facebook friend, I was aware of his blog, but read it only occasionally. I have been reading it daily for several weeks now, and have been amused by Dale’s writing and the responses it elicits from the Babooners. I especially like the initiative that some of the Babooners have shown, i.e. compiling the glossary. I have yet to check out all areas of the site, but I’m sure I’ll find more treasures. I live on St. Paul’s West Side and hope to be able to join in more of the fun.

        Like

        Reply

  14. Once I saw a little bird come hop, hop, hop
    So I cried “Little bird, will you stop, stop, stop?”
    I was leaning out the window to say “How do you do?”
    When he shook his little tail, and far away he flew.

    Like

    Reply

  15. sorry for this in advance:
    (sung to the tune of My Bonnie lies over the ocean)

    my Bonnie has tuberculosis
    my Bonnie has only one lung
    my Bonnie spits up bloody mucus
    and rolls it around on her tongue – yum, yum!

    Like

    Reply

    1. (no tune, done in jurior high like a cheer)
      Regurse you food, regurse your food!
      Throw up, throw up, throw up your food.
      V-O-M-I-T, V-O-M-I-T.
      Vomit, vomit, yeaccchhh.

      Like

      Reply

    2. Gross imagery aside, kids do like poems they can move to, like when you stand up and sit down to My Bonnie. In our house we liked the following:

      Oh, the grand old Duck of York,
      He had 10,000 men.
      He marched them up to the top of the hill
      And he marched them down again.
      And when they were up they were up.
      And when they were down they were down.
      And when they were neither half way up
      They were neither up nor down.

      Like

      Reply

      5. And when they were up they were floating
        And when they were down they were drowned
        And when they were only half way up,
        they were bailing and trying for dry ground.

        Like

        Reply

  16. “Jabberwocky” is another favorite from later childhood – such lovely phrases like “one, two, one, two and through and through his vorpal blade went snicker snack” and “oh frabjous day callooh! callay!” It was a strange world inside the head of Lewis Carroll, but I’m okay with that. (Hmm, perhaps there needs to be more – or less – “uffish thought” at the capitol…hmmm…)

    Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
    Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!”

    He took his vorpal sword in hand:
    Long time the manxome foe he sought —
    So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood awhile in thought.

    And, as in uffish thought he stood,
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
    Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

    One, two! One, two! And through and through
    The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
    He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

    “And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
    Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
    O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
    He chortled in his joy.

    `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

    Like

    Reply

    1. I also loved The Walrus and the Carpenter, partly because it was what Ole Golly read to Harriet. Anything by Lewis Carroll.

      Like

      Reply

    2. Aww, Jabberwocky! David Patterson and I performed this as our “talent” in my college dormitory party in the fall of 1963. The talent part was all the precise elocution and all the expressive delivery we gave the poem. This is not prissy rhyme to be recited with a carnation in your lapel. Done properly, blood slops around on the floor and you yodel a Rebel cry when the beamish boy goes galumphing back to the proud papa. This is a poem for trainer performers on a closed track; do not attempt at home.

      Like

      Reply

      1. Maybe we could read some Lewis Carroll for the BBC sometime, and you could perform it when we get together, Steve!

        Like

        Reply

  18. Thanks Dale, that was brillig.

    I fondly remember sitting on my grandfather’s lap and him reading poetry to me. He chose poems with good rhyme and rhythm and I loved to hear him perform them. I particularly remember some by James Whitcomb Riley, like Little Orphan Annie and The Raggedy Man. He was also a big fan of Ogden Nash.

    When our oldest daughter was nursery rhyme age, we realized that if she could memorize Humpty Dumpty and Mary Had a Little Lamb she could memorize anything that rhymed. We found a poem, I think it was called The Boy Reciter, and taught her all 4 or 5 verses. The first verse was:
    You’d scarce expect one of my age
    To speak in public on the stage.
    So if I chance to fall below
    Demosthenese or Cicero,
    Don’t view me with a critic’s eye,
    Just pass my imperfections by.

    She could wow the village with her performance. She was very petite and looked younger than she was. The big words, perfectly pronounced, coming out of that little mouth in that little voice was something to hear. She was a real ham and loved the attention she got. I’ll have to look up that poem again, I didn’t spot it online but I must still have the book. Fun memory.

    Like

    Reply

    1. Great image, OC – When I was about 3 I memorized “The Night Before Christmas” and would “read” it to anyone who would listen, turning the pages at the correct time, and everyone thought it was so cute. (This was before there were kids reading already at age 3.)

      Like

      Reply

  19. A favorite book we had when son was little, A Great Big Ugly Man Came Up and Tied His Horst to Me: A Book of Nonsense Verse with hilarious illustrations by Wallace Tripp. I’ll post some favorites throughout the day:

    The common cormorant or shag
    Lays eggs inside a paper bag.
    The reason you will see no doubt
    It is to keep the lightening out.
    But what these unobservant birds
    Have never noticed is that herds
    Of wandering bears may come with buns
    And steal the bags to hold the crumbs. (Anonymous)

    And this by Shel Silverstein:
    The Slithergadee has crawled out of the sea.
    He may catch all the others, but he won’t catch me.
    No you won’t catch me, old Slithergadee,
    You may catch all the others, but you wo—

    Like

    Reply

      3. Back in the days when I had a comparitively thick head of hair, I was 1-time model for Horst at a class at the former site of the Academy. It was at least a 3-hour cut, I swear he cut each hair on my head individually and described to the students what he was doing with each snip. The style was called a coupe savauge and to this day I have probably never paid as much for a haircut as I would have had to pay back then for a genuine Horst.

        Like

        Reply

      4. It was quite a place back in the day! I know a few people who had either trained with or worked for him, and he sounded like a real go-getter. Did you get paid beyond the haircut?

        Like

        Reply

    3. My favorite Shelf Silverstein:

      If you have to dry the dishes
      (Such an awful boring chore)
      If you have to dry the dishes
      (‘Stead of going to the store)
      If you have to dry the dishes
      And you drop one on the floor
      Maybe they won’t let you
      Dry the dishes anymore.

      Like

      Reply

  20. I still have the remains of a book (missing cover and first and last pages, so I don’t even know the name of it) that I had as a kid. Filled with children’s stories (Beatrix Potter, Velveteen Rabbit) as well as lots and lots of poems. Here’s another favorite:

    When I was down beside the sea
    A wooden spade they gave to me
    To dig the sandy shore.
    My holes were empty like a cup.
    In every hole the sea came up
    Till it could come no more.

    Robert Lewis Stevenson

    Like

    Reply

    2. Yikes! Brain must have been fried from yardwork! Funny I can remember the poem and then get the poet’s name wrong. Must have been in the air yesterday…

      Like

      Reply

  21. What a wonderful bird the frog are.
    When he sit he stand almost;
    When he hop, he fly almost.
    He ain’t got no sense hardly.
    He ain’t got no tail hardly either.
    When he sit, he sit on what he ain’t got almost.
    ——————————
    As I was standing in the street, as quiet as could be,
    A great big ugly man came up and tied his horse to me.
    ——————————-
    A horse and a flea and three blind mice
    Sat on a curbstone shooting dice.
    The horse he slipped and fell on the flea.
    The flea said, “Whoops, there’s a horse on me.”

    (all by Anonymous)

    Like

    Reply

    1. I knew a girl, a blonde in fact, who took an art appreciation class at the U of MN. And the thing that confused her most when she studied for the final was how prolific one painter had been for such a long time. She studied paintings done in the 15th century by Anna Niemus, in the 16th century, in the17th century.

      Like

      Reply

      1. i had heard she was there at that time. the art teacher wanted to take her home and have a bottle of wine while discussing it with her

        Like

        Reply

  22. I’ve probably posted this before, but it was a favorite when I was home from college and found a set of Ogden Nash books on my folks’ bookshelf.
    The Hunter:

    The hunter crouches in his blind
    ‘Neath camouflage of every kind,
    And conjures up a quacking noise
    To lend allure to his decoys.
    This grown up man, with pluck and luck,
    Is hoping to outwit a duck.

    Like

    Reply

  23. I gave a dinner party
    Where I served some artichokes,
    And the people burst out laughing,
    Making rude remarks and jokes.

    They cried, “These things could stick us!”
    Then they threw them on the floor.
    And I became more angry
    Than I’d ever been before.

    I jumped up on the table
    And I started in to shout,
    Asking “What were you expecting?
    Hot dogs and sauerkraut?

    “Sure, artichokes are prickly,
    But I promise these won’t hurt.
    Now pick them up and taste them
    Or I won’t give you dessert.”

    Then the people looked embarrassed
    And they said they had to go,
    Leaving artichokes all over
    My new carpet down below.

    So I scooped them up and put them
    On my bottom icebox shelf,
    And every day for breakfast
    I enjoy one by myself.

    -Pyke Johnson Jr.

    Like

    Reply

Leave a reply to barb in Blackhoof Cancel reply