Henrietta the Spider is knitting a night-cap of finely woven silver for her sweetheart, with tassels all of fallen stars and a bobble made of blue cheese.
Where, where? Under the Moon! The King of the Frogs is beating a drum with an old chicken bone and wonders why his belly is aching. Silly King of Frogs, - it is your own stomach you are beating!
Where, where? Under the Moon!
The Prince of Pastel City is standing beneath a balcony with one foot in a bucket of cold porridge and the other in a pretty jewelled clipper. "Marionette, sweet Marionette" he cries "Will you not come out and dance for me?" From the shadows of an ancient oak an owl regards him mournfully.
Where, where? Under the Moon!
One day I was travelling upon the Golden Highway between Crossing-town and Worlds End. I saw a gathering of field elves dressed in ragged kilts and cast-off clothing obviously stolen from some Oxfam or Tenovus Charity store. "Why are you dancing in ragged kilts and cast-off clothing obviously stolen from some Oxfam or Tenovus Charity store?" I asked them, thinking it might make a worthy subject for dissertation at college or public bar. but they pelted me with cow pats and vanished down an old mine shaft.
Where, where? Under the Moon!
Goodness Henrietta, are you still here knitting, how many heads does your sweetheart have, and why are there so many dead flies and tiny bones in the night-cap you are making him? Surely it will give him nightmares! Every time I see you, you are knitting, knitting, knitting, where and when do you find time to sweet talk your beloved? Where, where?
Under the Moon, under the Moon. Under the silvery, silvery Moon!
Born May 25, 1878 Richmond, Virginia, U.S. Died November 25, 1949 (aged 71) New York City, New York, U.S. Occupation Dancer, actor (1878-05-25) MR. BO JANGLES
It's the title of the opening of the American page so who better than Mr Bill (Luther) Robinson, best known throughout the music world as Mr Bo Jangles. Details of Robinson's early life are known only through legend, much of it perpetuated by Bill Robinson himself. He claims he was christened "Luther"—a name he did not like. He suggested to his younger brother Bill that they should exchange names. When Bill objected, Luther applied his fists, and the exchange was made.
At the age of six, Robinson began dancing for a living, appearing as a "hoofer" or song-and-dance man in local beer gardens. He soon dropped out of school to pursue dancing as a career. In 1886, he joined Mayme Remington's troupe in Washington, DC, and toured with them. In 1891, at the age of 12, he joined a travelling company in The South Before the War, and in 1905 worked with George Cooper as a vaudeville team. He gained great success as a nightclub and musical comedy performer, and during the next 25 years became one of the toasts of Broadway. Not until he was 50 did he dance for white audiences, having devoted his early career exclusively to appearances on the black theater circuit.
In 1908 in Chicago, he met Marty Forkins, who became his lifelong manager. Under Forkins' tutelage, Robinson matured and began working as a solo act in nightclubs, increasing his earnings to an estimated $3500 per week. The publicity that gradually came to surround him included the creation of his famous "stair dance" (which he claimed to have invented on the spur of the moment when he was receiving an honor from the King of England, who was standing at the top of a flight of stairs; Bojangles' feet just danced up to be honoured), his successful gambling exploits, his bow ties of multiple colors, his prodigious charity, his ability to run backward (he set a world's record of 8.2 seconds for the 75-yard backward dash) and to consume ice-cream by the quart, his argot—most notably the neologism copacetic, and such stunts as dancing down Broadway in 1939 from Columbus Circle to 44th St. in celebration of his 61st birthday.
Robinson served as a rifleman in World War I with New York's 15th Infantry Regiment, National Guard. The Regiment was renamed the 369th Infantry while serving under France's Fourth Army and earned the nickname the "Harlem Hell fighters". Along with serving in the trenches in WWI, Robinson was also the 369th "Hell fighters Band" drum major Fifth Avenue on the 369th's return from overseas.
I think most of us know what a rainbow is, if not we shall find out later. But does anyone know where the "Rainbow Ends"
Well if you listen to the scientists they will tell you that the
rainbow that we see in the sky, is made by tiny particles of water
trapped in the atmosphere, which, when the sunlight shines through
them, creates the shape of a bow across the sky.
Diddily Dee Dot's Dream-Land gives you : ALL THE CHILDREN
I suppose if all the children who have lived through the ages long Were collected and inspected they would make a wonderous throng. Oh, the babble of the Babel ! Oh, the flutter and the fuss ! To begin with Cain and Abel, and to finish up with US.
Think of all the men and women who are now and who have been - Every nation since creation that this world of ours have seen, And of all of them not any, but was once a baby small; While of children, oh, how many have NOT grown up at all ! Some have never laughed or spoken, never used their rosy feet; Some have even flown to heaven ere they knew that earth was sweet ! And indeed I wonder whether, if we reckon every birth And bring such a flock together, there is room for them on earth.
Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse - Perhaps you have seen him before; Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept Through the moonlight that floats on the floor. For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright, That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane, Is up on his heels and away! The moon in the sky, As he gallopeth by, Cries: "Oh! what a marvelous sight!" And the stars in dismay Hide their faces away In the lap of old Grandmother Night.
It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse Speedeth ever and ever away - Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains, Over streamlets that sing at their play; And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he, While the ships they go sailing below, And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast Adjudge him some portent of woe. "What ho there!" they cry, As he flourishes by With a whisk of his beautiful tail; And the fish in the sea Are as scared as can be, From the nautilus up to the whale!
I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS POEM AND BEING AS PIRATES WORKED THE MEDITERRANIAN COAST AS WELL AS THE CARIBBEAN, THIS HAS TO BE A SPICEY SPACE FOR IT.
The Old Pirate Ship.
It is almost two weeks now since the old wreck of the pirate ship was washed up on the nearby shore of our sleepy little town.
Initialy, as the first returning fishermen had spied its crenellated outline listing between the palm fronds, it was feared a gang of cut-throat marauders had decided to pillage our homes - but it soon became apparent that the hulk was lifeless and uninhabited save by pale white barnacles.
By mid-morning it was swarming with young children and older ones who had sneaked out of school to investigate this promising novelty. The next day the town school was half empty and Ms Cecily Charcoal-Brazier had to send a message to the local constable demanding that he do something about rounding up and delivering the truants back to her.
As the days progressed however it soon became apparent that all was not quite what it seemed with the old, salt-encrusted ruin. A number of men, seeking to salvage what little remained of usable wood from her, met with strange and inexplicable accidents.
Rory McTavish, for example, as skilled and as conscientious a boatsman you might find between here and Oakwood Harbour to the north, caught his foot in some rotten rigging and fell to the deck beneath him, breaking an arm and cracking three ribs. James Colway, sure-footed even after consuming a dozen pints of Old Martha's Invigorating Treacle Balm and Elixer, slipped on a hank of seaweed he swore wasn't there a moment before and, grabbing on to a nearby handrail for support, found a six-inch sliver of cruel ironwood embedded in his upper thigh.
He and the other men with him swore they heard the sound of laughter coming from the holds below but when they investigated, white-faced but determined, all they found was a chest already plundered of whatever treasure it might once have held and the skeletons of two somewhat oversize rats. When Colway took a fever and died three days later men took to avoiding the wreck altogether and mothers beat their children to convince them to likewise shy away from it - though not with a hundred percent success. A group of young braves led by Peter Mendolsohn elected to spend a night on the old ship but long before the village clock struck midnight they were back in their homes, terrified and half-delirious, telling incomprehensible tales of wild revels, phantom rituals and spectral debauchery.
Peter's sister, Sally, was hysterical, alternatively weeping and shrieking as she gazed about her in horror, purple bruises evident on her arms and thighs were, she said, ghost pirates had tried to molest her and drag her down an open hatchway into the depths of the ship.
The next morning a party of men investigated the wreak, inch by inch, but could find no evidence of anything extraordinary: the wreck was nothing more than what it seemed.
Even Sally Mendolsohn's bruises of the night before had vanished completely and all men and women could do was cross themselves and make sure their children were home early in the evening, safely protected behind closed doors and snuggled up between warm sheets.
When, the following night, spectral lights were seen trembling in the rigging of the cast-up ship and strange coarse cries came drifting down along the shore towards the town, good people turned their gaze away and made sure their doors and windows were bolted and shuttered tightly.
To no avail did they prevail upon the Mayor and priest to exorcise the terrible ship.
Though the holyman performed the prescribed ritual and sprinkled the decks of the offending vessel with sacred water, that very same evening the cries of revelry sounded yet louder and weird red fires joined the emerald and sapphire ones already burning in the rigging at night.
The next day a deputation of men led by the retired Colonel Armistice sought to set the hulk alight but in a ghastly accident the Colonel slipped upon the oil they had doused the rotten planks with and the tinderbox his assistant was carrying somehow ignited and the pair of them were engulfed in livid yellow flames, living torches of screaming flesh. Yet the ship itself was undamaged - the fire guttering out once it had done its evil work.
The rest of the party fled as swiftly as their boots might carry them.
* * * * * *
Every night for the past week the sounds of drunken revelry and worse coming from the beached pirate ship have been growing worse. What is more, a strange malady seems to have afflicted a great many of the women of the town.
Curiously, it is only the youngest and the prettiest that appear to be affected.
They look with scorn upon their husband, sweethearts and brothers, speaking derisively to the good men of the town with devilish laughter lurking in their eyes and increasingly lascivious gestures.
Their ring-leader seems to be a certain Molly Hopkins, a woman of loose reputation who until recently worked as a bar-maid in the Green Mermaid,
a less than salubrious drinking house in the poorer part of town where the old harbour used to be.
Quite openly she and her sluttish friends parade the streets at twilight, making bold suggestions to respectable folk and laughing immodestly.
Two nights ago, I'm told, Ms Hopkins even bared a breast at the outraged priest, inviting him to a communion altogether of the flesh.
Respectable young girls ignore the curfews set by worried parents and stalk the streets beneath the waxing Moon, strange suggestive songs upon their lips. Questioned the following day about their nocturnal excusions they deny all knowledge of them or look scornfully at their interogator, keeping a knowledgeable and haughty silence, lips turned up in barely disguised sneers.
Just last night I went to inspect my own daughters bedroom before my wife and I retired for the evening only to find her bed quite empty and the window open. A strangely warm and tropical breeze blew through the September streets and on it came the sounds of drunkenness and revelry. Between the swaying silhouettes of unfamiliar trees, red, green
and weird blue lights twinkled like the eyes of demons.
As the swollen Moon rose from out of the sea a wild and terrible ululation filled the skies and I knew then beyond all reason or doubt that our little town was utterly and irrevocably doomed...
Willow 2009
'I have copied this from the lovely Wikipaedia again, I do love this online encyclopeadia, wonderful. And so what is it about. Only this fabulous shopping area on line in Japan. so I will just let you go wonder round and enjoy yourselves. Hey don't forget to come back !'
Lovely or what!
Rilakkuma (リラックマ; a combination of the Japanese pronunciation of relax and the word for bear) is a
'JapaneseSan-X company.'
Rilakkuma debuted in 2003. All that is known about Rilakkuma's back story is that one day he appeared in the apartment of an office worker named Kaoru. Rilakkuma wears brown bear suits. In picture books Rilakkuma is frequently seen sitting around waiting for suits that look exactly like him to dry on the clothes line. When Rilakkuma's mysterious zipper located on his back is opened, you can see parts of a light blue polka dot pattern. When he has his bear costume off he is always wearing a spare costume. True to his name, Rilakkuma greatly enjoys relaxing. This includes sleeping, laying around, watching tv, and soaking in hot springs.
[1] He loves using Kaoru's yellow bean bag pillow.
[2] He is often accompanied by Korilakkuma, who is a smaller white bear with a mischievous personality, and Kiiroitori, a yellow chick who plays a tsukkomi role (considered to be the smarter, more logical one who criticizes others for making mistakes). Kiiroitori is basically the opposite of Rilakkuma because of the bird's hard-working nature and love of cleaning.
This is the store I found quite by accident.
[1] Kiiroitori is Kaoru's bird. Kiiroitori is always nagging Rilakkuma on how lazy he is.
[2]music. He loves being a troublemaker.
[2] Rilakkuma's favorite foods include mochi, pancakes, dumplings, flan, and doughnuts. Rilakkuma once lied to Kiiroitori and Korilakkuma by telling them his ears were made out of castella. They then proceeded to bite his ears.
[3] A character produced by the Korilakkuma frequently plays pranks on Rilakkuma whilst he is sleeping, such as drawing on him, putting headphones on him and sewing odd color patches on his bear suits. Because Korilakkuma is still a child, he doesn't know how to speak very well but can often be found copying what Rilakkuma is saying. It is not known where Korilakkuma came from, he just seemed to appear. Korilakkuma also loves
Not all of these little films are from Rilakkuma, they all seem very short and the same so there are a few more as well. xxx Dr Do-Diddily. xxx
The San-X company puts staff members under obligation to create one cute character per month. Aki Kondo (also the creater of Okutan to Dannachan) saw a TV show about dogs. She wished to own a pet because at that time she was very busy working and hoped for a more relaxing life. Rilakkuma is an embodiment of her wish.
Rilakkuma World Forum Index
I don't think Rilakkuma World is connected to San X,
it is just someone Blog! I think.
[4]
In July 2009, Bandai released an exclusive edition of Rilakkuma-themed notebook computers."
FAIRY TALES FOR YOU Not the little wooden box from the story. This is a special one. read all about it at end of story
The Little Wooden Box
Brownilocks ran through the wood, sobbing as if her heart would break.
"What is the matter?" asked a kindly oak-tree.
" The old witch set me a task, and I fell asleep in the hayfield before it was done," she answered, "and she'll beat me, and beat me, and beat me !"
"Stop your crying," said the oak , "and put your hand in the hollow of my trunk, and see what you can find."
This is what an Oak tree looks like in the Autumn (Fall)Brownilocks slipped her hand in the old oak, and pulled out a little wooden box.
"Now inside that box is a magic powder," said the oak. "If you throw it into the witch's supper she will fall asleep the instant she tastes it, but you must run away and hide till she has eaten it, so that she cannot question you."
"Yes, I will," said Brownilocks, "and then I can get up early in the morning and finish the task before she wakes. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you !"
She left the oak tree and started to walk back to her home. When she got to the brook she came across the ugliest hunchback dwarf she had ever seen, he was sitting huddled up by the water, holding his foot and moaning.
"Oh dear !" cried Brownilocks. "I am afraid you are hurt !" And though the sight of his misshapen body and his twisted face, his long, cruel looking fingers made her shudder, she stooped down, filled her hands with water and held them to his lips.
The dwarf drank greedily and then looked down at his foot.
It was torn and bleeding, and the dwarf told her that he had had an accident and was in great distress. He was a long way from home , and was faint for the want of food, but what made him feel worse was the fact that he hadn't slept for nights.
"Oh, dear !" said Brownilocks again. "I do wish I could help you. I can bathe your foot and bind it up for you, but I'm afraid I cannot give you neither food nor sleep."Now this isn't even a dwarf, can't find one ugly enough, this is a trow from the Shetland Isles
Then she stopped, for she suddenly remembered the sleeping potion she carried in her pocket. "Yes I can help you," said Brownilocks, pulling the little box out of her pocket. "Take it at once, and you can sleep till I wake you."
The dwarf asked no question; he tipped the powder on to his tongue and swallowed it, then he lay back down on the earth and closed his eyes.
That night, poor Brownilocks cried herself to sleep, for the cruel witch had beaten her till she had begged for mercy. But she was up with the sun early in the morning, and, though her bruises were so painful that she could scarce walk, she went as quickly as she could to the brook . In her basket she carried a crust of bread and a bottle of milk..
"The poor man will need food when he awakes," she had thought, "for he must have a long way to go." She didn't dare take anything else from the house so she had saved her own breakfast for him.
The little man was still fast asleep when she reached the brook, it looked like he had hardly moved at all. She went softly forward and bent over him.
"Wake up !" she cried, "It is morning and I have brought you food and drink.
Can you imagine the amazement on Brownilocks face when the figure rose to face her, for the figure who rose from the shabby, old cloak was not the hunchback that she had nursed the night before. But a handsome young man, he was dressed in blue and silver that glistened in the morning sun.
Oh my goodness! Brownilocks exclaimed. "You are a Prince!" And she was right.
He smiled at her "Yes, I am the Prince Merryheart," He said kneeling by Brownilocks side. "And you must be my princess, for you have not only saved my life and my reason as well, but you have broken a spell that I began to fear would never be broken."
Brownilocks was astonished"A spell !" cried Brownilocks.
The prince nodded. "The witch who stole you from your cradle when you were a baby turned me into an ugly hunchback for trying to rescue you. And the spell was that I remain like that until I found a princess who would tend me with her own hands, and not be frightened by my ugliness."
"But I am not a princess," said Brownilocks. "Indeed I am not !"
"Oh yes you are," laughed the Prince, "and I am going to take you home. The King has been grieving for his lost daughter since you were taken, and the Queen cries for you all day."
\and then, to Brownilock's amazement, he blew a silver whistle, and up came a magnificent white horse.the prince took her away on his beautiful white horse
The Prince set Brownilocks on to his back and sprang up behind her, and in a twinkling they were off.
And the wicked witch, what became of her.? The story says that she died on the morning that the Prince Merryheart awoke. All that was left in her horrible dark hut was her black cat, who was also set free from the witches wicked spells and he went to live near the old oak tree that gave Brownilocks the magic powder in the Little Wooden Box. ....
I found this in a blog
"This is my little wooden Totoro music box.
When you turn the crank, it plays;
Kaze no Torimichi (The Path of the Wind)Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbour Totoro).
A small treasure that warms my heart. from the film "My Neighbour Totoro."
Here below is a wonderful video list of Totoro and some of the Studio Ghibli Friends
olen from some 
THE RAINBOW, 
which, when the sunlight shines through 
Some have never laughed or spoken, never used their rosy feet;
Perhaps you have seen him before;
When Colway took a fever and died three days later men took to avoiding the wreck altogether and mothers beat their children to convince them to likewise shy away from it - though not with a hundred percent success. A group of young braves led by Peter Mendolsohn elected to spend a night on the old ship but long before the village clock struck midnight they were back in their homes, terrified and half-delirious, telling incomprehensible tales of wild revels, phantom rituals and spectral debauchery.
work.
evening only to find her bed quite empty and the window open. A strangely warm and tropical breeze blew through the September streets and on it came the sounds of drunkenness and revelry. Between the swaying silhouettes of unfamiliar trees, red, green