UNIT 2
POETRY
‘Folsom Prison Blues’ by Johnny Cash
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
I hear the train a comin’, it’s rolling ’round the bend And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when I’m stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin’ on But that train keeps a rollin’ on down to San Antone
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In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?
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‘The Tyger’ by William Blake
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When I was just a baby my mama told me, ‘Son Always be a good boy, don’t ever play with guns’ But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry.
From The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson From ‘A Visit from St Nicholas’ by Clement Clarke Moore
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A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood. A fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good.
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‘Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come and have lunch in my underground house.’ ‘It’s terribly kind of you, Fox, but no – I’m going to have lunch with a gruffalo.’
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‘A gruffalo? What’s a gruffalo?’ ‘A gruffalo! Why, didn’t you know?
‘Where are you meeting him?’ ‘Here, by these rocks, And his favourite food is roasted fox.’
The children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap…
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He has terrible tusks, and terrible claws, And terrible teeth in his terrible jaws.’
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
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