Seligor's Castle, fun for all the children of the world.
Little BoPeep

Hurt No Living Thing

Hurt no living thing,

Ladybird or Butterfly,

Nor moth with dusty wing,

Nor cricket chirping cheerily,

Nor grasshopper, so light of leap,

Nor dancing gnat,

Nor beetle fat,

Nor harmless worm that creeps.

                                                                         By Christina Rossetti.

SELIGOR'S CASTLE
     PRESENT'S
SPIKE MILLIGAN

The ABC

'Twas midnight in the schoolroom

And every desk was shut

When suddenly from the alphabet

"I disagree," said D to B,

"I've never found C so.

From where I stand he seems to be

An uncompleted O."

C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,

You criticise my shape.

I'm made like that, to help spell Cat

And Cow and Cool and Cape."

"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"

Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"

                              "You're dropping me," roared H to G.

                      "Don't do it please I pray."

"Out of my way," LL said to K.

"I'll make poor I look ILL."

To stop this stunt J stood in front,

And presto! ILL was JILL.

Is twice the age of me.

For as a Roman V is five

I'm half as young as he."

X and Y yawned sleepily,

"Look at the time!" they said.

"Let's all get off to beddy byes."

They did, then "Z-z-z."

SELIGOR'S CASTLE ALONG WITH

LITTLE BO PEEP

A chicken is a chicken, you all know how a chicken looks, sure you do, so go ahead and draw a chicken the teacher tells the children, and all the kids suck on crayons and then draw chickens, coloring them black or brown, with black or brown crayons, but wouldn't you know it, look at Jacob, he draws a chicken with every crayon in the box,

then borrows some from Laura, and Jacob's chicken ends up with an orange head, blue wings and red thighs and the teacher says that's some bizarre chicken, what do you say children, and the kids roll with laughter while the teacher goes on, saying, that's all because Jacob wasn't paying attention, and, to tell the truth, Jacob's chicken really looks more like a turkey, no wait, a peacock, it's as big as a quail and as lean as a swallow, a peculiar pullet, to say the least, Jacob earns an F for it and the chicken, instead of being hung on the wall, migrates to a pile of misfits on top of the teacher's cabinet, the poor chicken's feelings are hurt, nothing makes it happy about being on top of a teacher's cabinet, so, deciding not to be chicken, it flies off through the open window.

But a chicken is a chicken, a chicken won't fly too far, hence it ends up next door in a garden full of white cherries and powder-blue currants, a splendid garden that proudly shows its cultivator's love, you see, the gardener, Professor Kapon, a recognized authority, he is an ornithologist who has written seven books on birds and right now is finishing his eighth, and as he puts the last touches to it, he suddenly feels weary, so he goes out to do some light gardening and toss a few horseshoes, which is easy and lets him muse over birds, there are tons of them, so many birds, Professor Kapon says to himself, but there isn't a single bird that he discovered, he feels down, flips a horseshoe and dreams a love-filled dream about an as-yet-unknown bird when his eye falls on the chicken picking the baby-blue currants, the rare blue currants, that darn it, he didn't grow for chicken feed, now that would make anyone's blood boil, the professor is incensed, he is furious, he seems unable to zap the chicken, so in the end he just catches it, flings it over the fence, the chicken flies off, and voila, Professor Kapon follows, he flies over the fence in pursuit of the chicken, grabs it and carries it home, quite an unusual chicken, that one, bet nobody has seen one quite like it, an orange head, blue wings and red thighs, the professor jots it all down, looks like a turkey, but then not quite, reminds one of a sparrow but also of a peacock, it's as big as a quail and as lean as a swallow, and after he has written it all down for his eighth book, the professor, all quivers, bestows upon the chicken his own name and carries it to the zoo.

A chicken is a chicken, who would fuss over a chicken, you think, but this one must be well worth the bother for the whole zoo is in an uproar, such rarity turns up perhaps once in twenty years, if that often, the zoo director is rubbing his hands, the employees are building a cage, the painter has his hands full and the director says the cage must sparkle and make the bed soft, he adds, and already there appears a nameplate, Kapon's chicken, Gallina Kaponi, it sounds lovely, doesn't it, what do you say, it sounds, actually. . .how about it, the chicken is having the time of its life, it's moved to tears by all this care, it really can't complain, it has become the zoo's main attraction, the center of attention, the zoo has never had so many visitors, says the cashier, and the crowds are growing larger by the minute, wait, look, there is our teacher with the whole class standing in front of the cage, explaining, a while ago you saw the Przewalkski horse and here you have another unique specimen, the so-called Kapon's chicken or Gallina Kaponi that looks some-what like a turkey but not quite, resembles a sparrow and also a peacock, it's as big as a quail and as lean as a swallow, why, look at that gorgeous orange head, the blue wings, the scarlet thighs, the children are agog, they sigh, what a beautiful chicken, ain't that right, teacher, but Laura, as if struck by lightning, pulls on teacher's sleeve and says, that's Jacob's chicken, I bet you it is, the teacher becomes irked, this silly child's ridiculous notions, what Jacob's chicken is she prattling on about and, come to think of it, where is Jacob anyhow, again he is not paying attention, now wouldn't you know, there, just look at him, there he is, in front of an anteater's cage, watching an anteater when he is supposed to be looking at Kapon's chicken, Jacob, the teacher yells at the top of her lungs in a high-pitched voice, next time you'll stay home, Jacob, I've had enough aggravation, which shouldn't surprise anyone, for something like that would make anybody's blood boil.

Miloš Macourek — một trong những nhà văn, kịch tác gia và đạo diễn điện ảnh hàng đầu của Tiệp-khắc — sinh ngày 2.12.1926 tại Kroměříž. Sau khi rời trường âm nhạc và kịch nghệ, ông làm nhiều nghề để kiếm sống: công nhân nhà máy, người kéo màn sân khấu, thủ kho, biên tập viên cho nhà xuất bản, giảng viên đại học (về văn chương và mỹ thuật), biên tập viên cho hãng phim... Ông bước vào văn chương với tập thơ Člověk by nevěřil svým očím [Không tin vào mắt mình] (1958). Trong những năm 1960, ông viết kịch bản cho nhà hát Na zábradlí và các hãng phim Barrandov và Krátký. Ông đã thực hiện 29 cuốn phim (phần lớn là hài kịch và truyện cổ tích), 7 loạt phim bi kịch và 5 loạt phim hoạt hoạ cho truyền hình. Ông cũng là tác giả của hàng chục cuốn phim hoạt hoạ đoạt giải quốc tế. Đồng thời, ông đã xuất bản 10 cuốn sách, trong đó có những cuốn được dịch ra 14 ngoại ngữ, chẳng hạn cuốn Živočichopis [Sách loài vật] (1962), và Mach a Ÿebestová [Max và Sally] (1982). Ông qua đời ngày 30.9.2002 tại Praha.

And now a small poem from India written over a hundred and thirty years ago.

Realizador: Shelly wain
Categoria: Animação
País: Reino Unido
Duração: 3:21                          Synopsis:

Based on the poem by Edward Lear. a cat lady sits alone in the jungle.

Strange creatures twitter and hum. Suddenly a warning cry is heard   

"The Cummerbund is come".

"You will never believe this but Seligor actually tried to find what Mr Lear was talking about but of course, his rhymes were mostly Nonsense so  that explained everything."

 
THE CUMMERBUND

She sat upon her Dobie,
To watch the Evening Star,
And all the Punkahs as they passed,
Cried, "My! how fair you are!
Around her bower, with quivering leaves,
The tall Kamsamahs grew,
And Kitmutgars in wild festoons
Hung down from Tchokis blue.

Below her home the river rolled
With soft Meloobious sound,
Where golden-finned Chuprassies swam,
In myriads circling round.
Above, on tallest trees remote
Green Ayahs perched alone,
And all night long the Mussak moan'd
Its melancholy tone.

And where the purple Nullahs threw
Their branches far and wide,
And silvery Goreewallahs flew
In silence, side by side,
The little Bheesties'  flagrant air,
And of the angry Jampan howled
Deep in his hateful lair.

She sat upon her Dobie,
She heard the Nimmak hum,
When all at once a cry arose,
"The Cummerbund is come!"
In vain she fled; - with open jaws
The angry monster followed,
And so, ( before assistance came,)
The Lady Fair was swallowed.

They sought in vain for even a bone
Respectfully to bury,
They said, "Hers was a dreadful fate!
(And Echo answered "Very."
They nailed her Dobie to the wall,
Where last her form was seen,
And underneath they wrote these words,
 In yellow, blue, and green:-

"Beware, ye Fair! Ye Fair, beware!
Nor sit out late at night, -
Lest horrid Cummerbunds should come,
And swallow you outright.

Note. - First published in Times of India,  Bombay, July, 1874.
By Edward Lear.

My friend from India who has his own fabulous websitesover there. You will see contacts for him all over the Castle and Dreamland. He sent me this email, when he read that I had placed the poem on this site.

HERE IS HIS EMAIL FOR YOU TO READ.

Thank you for the poem Dorothy. (My Posh Name)  Do you understand it all? Because more than half the words used are Hindi. Cuumarbandh means a belt or a wide sash.
The picture on the banner is my fathers (As this site was originally started to publish his philosophy of life!). The picture on  the right is a fantastic sculpture in granite that stands in front of  the Patna Secretariat. It depicts India's freedom struggle and the march to Delhi against British Rule. Interesting?
Wishing you all the best weatherwise, otherwise and anywise, best regards, dadazi

Isn't that a wonderful message, it is so good to talk to the people who do the same thing as yourself, which is of course trying to keep the children of the world happy. Hooray for dadazi and seli.  

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 To accompany everyone on their  journey through life into the wonderful world of food and drink that you could eat even if you weren't very, very hungry. Seligor has searched around the wonderful You tube and found some beautiful Sea Shanties, My mum (Seligor) used to teach me these songs when I was a little girl. Her elder sisters even taught me how to do the Hornpipe.

Enjoy the songs Seligor  chose for you and say thanks to the people who put the video's together, I wish I could do them for myself... maybe one day eh! Take care, Diddily Dee Dot. xxx

These are a few of the songs for you to watch and listen too.
among the treasures of the deep are:



Santy Anna.      
Haul Away for Rosie.
Go to Sea Once More.