I.
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.
II.
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!
III.
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,
Tittlebat
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!
IV.
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.
nice poem! ! it praise urself! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 1
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
Wonderful he is! There the poet shows paradox that he was an escapist, as some of critics say.
Wonderful little poem from the great poet. A poem that is enjoyed by children and grown ups alike... “What write There he found That the ground Was as hard, That a yard Was as long, That a song Was as merry, “ great write.... poetry...
Extremely romantic poem with skill and rhythm... Beautifully executed..
A Song About Myself by John Keats.I have read this most beautiful poem time and again. His life so tragic. Truly. He died too young. He had not become 25 years old, I reckon and died because of tuberculose. Poor boy! Cute poem!
He rivetted close And followed his nose To the north, To the north, And follow'd his nose To the north.............................WOW! John KEATS my most favourite Poet and he died so young, too young to die. His life was so tragic and saddest since he had tbc from his parents-mother. His grandparents remained healthy. What a most tragic life, in his time there was no medicine for this disease, that´s the tragedy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i wish dear you were alive! ! ! .....beautiful poem