My harp and I a-wandering Went over Snowdon Mountain, From Anglesey to Swansea Bay It sang like any fountain. - Eleanor Farjeon

I want to be good...I try to be good, I do try, and to like everybody. But there are some people - some people I can't like, however much I try. I hate them - there!

Bugsby's reach is long as time, His reach is wide as wind is, He can pick you nettles in Greenwich Marsh And docks in the East Indies.

Romance gathers round an old story like lichen on an old branch. And the story of Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard is so old now — some say a year old, some say even two. How can the children be expected to remember?