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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)

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A Song About Myself

There was a naughty boy,
A naughty boy was he,
He would not stop at home,
He could not quiet be-
He took
In his knapsack
A book
Full of vowels
And a shirt
With some towels,
A slight cap
For night cap,
A hair brush,
Comb ditto,
New stockings
For old ones
Would split O!
This knapsack
Tight at's back
He rivetted close
And followed his nose
To the north,
To the north,
And follow'd his nose
To the north.

There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
For nothing would he do
But scribble poetry-
He took
An ink stand
In his hand
And a pen
Big as ten
In the other,
And away
In a pother
He ran
To the mountains
And fountains
And ghostes
And postes
And witches
And ditches
And wrote
In his coat
When the weather
Was cool,
Fear of gout,
And without
When the weather
Was warm-
Och the charm
When we choose
To follow one's nose
To the north,
To the north,
To follow one's nose
To the north!

There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
He kept little fishes
In washing tubs three
In spite
Of the might
Of the maid
Nor afraid
Of his Granny-good-
He often would
Hurly burly
Get up early
And go
By hook or crook
To the brook
And bring home
Miller's thumb,
Not over fat,
Minnows small
As the stall
Of a glove,
Not above
The size
Of a nice
Little baby's
Little fingers-
O he made
'Twas his trade
Of fish a pretty kettle
A kettle-
A kettle
Of fish a pretty kettle
A kettle!

There was a naughty boy,
And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see-
There he found
That the ground
Was as hard,
That a yard
Was as long,
That a song
Was as merry,
That a cherry
Was as red,
That lead
Was as weighty,
That fourscore
Was as eighty,
That a door
Was as wooden
As in England-
So he stood in his shoes
And he wonder'd,
He wonder'd,
He stood in his
Shoes and he wonder'd.

Submitted: Monday, March 22, 2010

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Comments about this poem (Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher's Tragi-Comedy 'The Fair Maid of the Inn' by John Keats )

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  • * Sunprincess * (3/9/2014 1:03:00 PM)

    .....lovely write this little boy seems so much fun..

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (2/6/2014 8:36:00 AM)

    The great poet John keat's poems while reading and enjoying always makes feeling of certain emotions in human mind. It is somewhat nostalgia or sorrowness, or any other emotion coming from the innerside of mind and makes the inner soul really sad and emotional.In this particular story and poetry of the naughty boy there are hundereds of thousands of naughty boys in the world still who are passing through such stages and minds of living and also suffering the emotions. Any way it is a great poem which have ever lasting as long as poem lovers and literary critics in this world of letters I think.

  • Babatunde Aremu (1/13/2014 3:26:00 AM)

    Great Poem from the sage!

  • Krishnakumar Chandrasekar Nair (11/16/2013 4:13:00 AM)

    I was a naughty boy
    The naughty boy was me
    Who grew up so to be
    A nutty man to say the least
    I went to the university
    For an education you see
    And there I found
    the class rooms square
    the play grounds round
    And I learned so little you see
    And today when I look back
    At all that has been
    I have to stand in my shoes and wonder
    And wonder, and wonder at all that has been

    I welcome all reading this to my page too for your valuable comments please

  • Sajana Prajapati (7/18/2012 10:37:00 PM)

    nice poem! ! it praise urself! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 1

  • Shahzia Batool (2/21/2012 2:32:00 AM)

    i wish dear you were alive! ! ! .....beautiful poem

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