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Who killed Cock Robin

"Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."
"Who saw him die?" "I," said the Fly,
"With my little eye, I saw him die."
"Who caught his blood?" "I," said the Fish,
"With my little dish, I caught his blood."
"Who'll make the shroud?" "I," said the Beetle,
"With my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud."
"Who'll dig his grave?" "I," said the Owl,
"With my pick and shovel, I'll dig his grave."
"Who'll be the parson?" "I," said the Rook,
"With my little book, I'll be the parson."
"Who'll be the clerk?" "I," said the Lark,
"If it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk."
"Who'll carry the link?" "I," said the Linnet,
"I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link."
"Who'll be chief mourner?" "I," said the Dove,
"I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner."
"Who'll carry the coffin?" "I," said the Kite,
"If it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin."
"Who'll bear the pall? "We," said the Wren,
"Both the cock and the hen, we'll bear the pall."
"Who'll sing a psalm?" "I," said the Thrush,
"As she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm."
"Who'll toll the bell?" "I," said the bull,
"Because I can pull, I'll toll the bell."
All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.

cool memory

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jpr: It helps me!

advice to wives

Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love and obey.
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready; may it do him ease.

KATHARINA...Taming of the Shrew

COI Alert

Missing baby bird alert. If you see this chic call the nearest COI office

month of the rose

The Month Of Roses.

Whence comes this mist of sweet perfume of fragrant
blooming roses
That fills the air at early dawn and after daylight closes,
When through the day the song bird sings and in the
night reposes?
Tis June, the fairest month of all, bright June, the
month of roses.
The sky has changed its grayish hue for that of deepest
azure,
And fleecy clouds are floating o'er and dancing as in
pleasure;
While near these fairy clouds are seen great Alps of
cloudland glory,
Where sunbeams darting to and fro mount each lofty
story,
When comes this grandeur in the skies that in winter
time reposes?
In June, the fairest month of all, bright June, the
month of roses.
The trees spread out their leafy boughs, the meadows
bloom with flowers;
The air is cooled, the dust is laid by calm, refreshing
showers;
The sun is up at early morn __ his eyes he scarcely closes,
For sunny June is with us now, fair June, the month
of roses.
The yellow rose blooms, .the white, pink, red in prairie,
field and garden,
And for the number and variety seem to ask your
pardon;
Their rich perfume so fills the air, the world seems
naught but roses;
A rosy crown they've made for June, and crowned her
Queen of Roses.
__Elva May Root.


jpr: be the bee!

quote

Truly, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my Name, He will give you.

jn 16:20-23