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Once upon a time, long long ago, a nice old lady lived in a cottage in the forest. But she had a nasty family of rats under her floor.

Once upon a time, long long ago, a nice ratto family lived under the floor of a tiny cottage in the forest. But they had a nasty old lady living above them.


One giorno the old lady went into town to do her shopping. She went to a small pet shop.

“Good riddance!” shouted the happy rats. “Now we have our home to ourselves!” So they ran riot about the cottage.


That evening the old lady came back with a cat — a very handsome cat, a very large cat.

“Deary me,”...
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There was once a boy called Norvin who was a good actor but rather plain. In fact, he looked very like a shark. He had small sharkish eyes, a pointed sharkish head, and sharp sharkish teeth.

Unfortunately, there are not many plays written with good parts for sharks, so Norvin took up swimming instead. He soon became a good swimmer and learned to shoot through the water like a silver arrow.


Norvin lived near a wonderful spiaggia called caramello Cove, but he had to share it with lots of other swimmers. When Norvin tried shooting through the water like a silver arrow, the other swimmers...
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Chïcka Chïcka 1 2 3 (Board Book)
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Chïcka Chïcka Boom Boom | Book By Bïll Martïn Jr., John
posted by hornean
On clear, starry nights the Moon Man can be seen curled up in his shimmering sede, sedile in space.


Every night from his drifting sphere, the Moon Man was filled with envy as he watched the earth people dance.
“If only once I could unisciti the fun,” he thought. “Life up here is such a bore.”


One night a shooting stella, star flashed by. The Moon Man leaped just in time to catch the fiery tail of the comet.


The night creatures of the woods fled in terror at the loud crash of the fallen star.


The noise brought hundreds of people from a nearby team. Soldiers sped to defend the earth. Firemen hastened to quench...
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posted by hornean
With a mournful moan and silken tone,
Itself alone comes ONE TROMBONE.
Gliding, sliding, high notes go low;
ONE trombone is playing SOLO.

Next, a TRUMPET comes along,
And sings and stings its swinging song.
It joins TROMBONE, no più alone,
And ONE and TWO-O, they’re a DUO.

Fine FRENCH HORN, its valves all oiled,
Bright and brassy, loops all coiled,
Golden yellow; joins its fellows.
TWO, now THREE-O, what a TRIO!

Now, a mellow friend, the CELLO,
Neck extended, bows a “hello”;
End pin set upon the floor,
It makes up a QUARTET—that’s FOUR.

And soaring high and moving in,
With ZIN! ZIN! ZIN! a VIOLIN,...
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posted by hornean
Did te ever hear of Mickey, how he heard a racket in the night

and shouted, “QUIET DOWN THERE!”


And fell through the dark, out of his clothes

Past the moon & his mama & papa sleeping tight



Into the light of the night kitchen?


Where the bakers who bake till the dawn so we can have cake in the morn mixed Mickey in batter, chanting:

“Milk in the batter! latte in the batter! Stir it! Scrape it! Make it! Bake it!”


And they put that batter up to bake a delicious Mickey-cake.


But right in the middle of the steaming and the making and the smelling and the baking, Mickey poked through and said:...
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posted by hornean
Once upon a time there were three fierce robbers. They went about hidden under large black capes and tall black hats.

The first had a blunderbuss.
The secondo had a pepper-blower.
And the third had a huge red axe.

In the dark of the night they walked the roads, searching for victims.

They terrified everyone. Women fainted. Ribelle - The Brave men ran. Cani fled.

To stop carriages, the robbers blew pepper in the horses’ eyes.

With the axe, they smashed the carriage wheels.

And with the blunderbuss, they threatened the passengers and plundered them.

The robbers’ hide-out was a cave high up in the mountains. There...
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posted by hornean
Out on the islands that poke their rocky shores above the waters of Penobscot Bay, te can watch the time of the world go by, from minuto to minute, ora to hour, from giorno to day, season to season.
You can watch a nube, nuvola peep over the Camden Hills, thirty miles away across the bay—see it slowly grow and grow as it comes nearer and nearer; see it darken the hills with its shadow; and then, see it darken, one after the other, Isleboro, Western Island, Pond Island, Hog Island, Spectacle Island, Two cespuglio, bush Island—darken all the islands in between, until

you, on your island, are standing in the shadow,...
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posted by hornean
Max was musical.
You name the instrument
and Max could play it.

trombone

bass

xylophone

flute

Max played da note and Max played da ear.
And Max practiced, practiced, practiced.

small harmonica

cymbals

synthesizer

“Max’s practicing is driving me crazy!” detto Max’s father. “I’m getting tone deaf.”
“Practice makes perfect,” detto Max’s mother. “Here, put on some ear muffs. It will muffle the sound.
“It doesn’t muffle enough,” detto Max’s father. “Oh, for a child without talent!”
“From your side, maybe. From my side, impossible,” detto Max’s mother.

But it wasn’t only Max’s...
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posted by hornean
A told B
and B told C,
“I’ll meet te at the top
of the coconut tree.”

“Whee!” detto D
to E F G,
“I’ll beat te to the top
of the coconut tree.”
Chicka chicka boom boom!
Will there be enough room?
Here comes H
up the coconut tree,

and I and J
and tag-along K,
all on their way
up the coconut tree.
Chicka chicka boom boom!
Will there be enough room?
Look who’s coming!
L M N O P!

And Q R S!
And T U V!

Still more—W!
And X Y Z!
The whole alphabet
up the—Oh, no!

Chicka chicka…
BOOM! BOOM!

Skit skat skoodle doot.
Flip flop flee.
Everybody running to the coconut tree.
Mamas and papas
and uncles and aunts
hug...
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posted by hornean
Burt Dow is an old deep-water man, retired of course, but retired o not he still keeps two boats. One is a dory so old and so leaky that it can no longer be launched. Burt has painted it red and placed it on the little patch of lawn in front of his house, overlooking the bay.
He’s rigged it like one of the many ships he’s sailed to all the corners of all the seven seas. It’s filled plumb to the gun’ls with earth, and every summer Burt plants it with geraniums and Indian peas. The geraniums brighten up the deck, and the Indian peas climb the rigging and sway this-a-way, that-a-way, in...
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posted by hornean
Every morning, Arthur and Doris and Tom walked to school together.
When they came to the wide river, they looked for Monty.

Monty was always asleep, snoring.
Kids: Wake up, Monty! This is a school day!
Monty: Huh? Again?
Doris: Yes. And we need a ride so our libri won’t get wet.
Monty: (yawning) Oooh..O.k. All aboard!

They climbed on Monty’s back, and he swam across the river.
Doris: Straight ahead, Monty!
Tom: Don’t wobble so much, Monty!
Arthur: Let’s see some speed, Monty!
When they got to the far side, Doris and Arthur and Tom went to school. Monty went back to sleep.

Every afternoon, he gave...
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posted by hornean
In front of a small, well-hidden hole around in back of the Majestic Museum of Art there once stood a topo, mouse named Norman.


Norman was a doorman, and he greeted all the art-loving creatures who came to see the treasures which were kept in the basement of the museum.
“Come right in!” Norman would say to his cousins the Petrinis. “We’re quite safe. I’ve sprung all the traps.”


Norman would explain every painting in detail and handle each masterpiece with as much care and respect as if he had painted it himself!

He would also take great pride in pointing out the artistic features of certain...
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posted by hornean
Owen had a fuzzy yellow blanket.
He’d had it since he was a baby.
He loved it with all his heart.

“Fuzzy goes where I go,” detto Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Upstairs, downstairs, in-between.
Inside, outside, upside down.

“Fuzzy likes what I like,” detto Owen.
And Fuzzy did.
Orange juice, uva juice, Cioccolato milk.
Ice cream, arachide, arachidi butter, applesauce cake.

“Isn’t he getting a little old to be carrying that thing around?” asked Mrs. Tweezers. “Haven’t te heard of the Blanket Fairy?”
Owen’s parents hadn’t.
Mrs. Tweezers filled them in.

That night Owen’s parents told Owen to put Fuzzy...
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posted by hornean
One Friday Miss Nelson told her class that she was going to have her tonsils out.
“I’ll be away successivo week,” she said. “And I expect te to behave.”
“Yess, Miss Nelson,” detto the kids in 207.

But at recess it was another story.
“Wow!” detto the kids. “While Miss Nelson is away, we can really act up!”
“Not so fast!” detto a big kid from 309. “Haven’t te heard of Viola Swamp?”
“Who?” detto Miss Nelson’s kids.

“Miss Swamp is the meanest substitute teacher in the whole world,” detto the big kid. “Nobody acts up when she’s around.”
“Oooh,” detto Miss Nelson’s...
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posted by hornean
One day, Little Sal went with her mother to mirtillo collina to pick blueberries.
Little Sal brought along her small tin pail and her mother brought her large tin pail to put berries in. “We will take our berries home and can them,” detto her mother.
“Then we will have Cibo for the winter.”


Little Sal picked three berries and dropped them in her little tin pail ... kuplink, kuplank, kuplunk!

She picked three più berries and ate them. Then she picked più berries and dropped one in the pail—kuplunk! And the rest she ate. Then Little Sal ate all four blue­berries out of her pail!


Her mother...
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posted by hornean
Mr. and Mrs. Mallard were looking for a place to live. But every time Mr. Mallard saw what looked like a nice place, Mrs. Mallard detto it was no good. There were sure to be foxes in the woods o turtles in the water, and she was not going to raise a family where there might be foxes o turtles. So they flew on and on.

When they got to Boston, they felt too tired to fly any further. There was a nice pond in the Public Garden, with a little island on it. “The very place to spend the night,” quacked Mr. Mallard. So down they flapped.

Next morning they fished for their breakfast in the mud at...
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Mrs. Bobbin, the dressmaker, was tired and had a bad headache, but she still managed to sew the last stitches in the toga, abito she was making.
“It’s the most beautiful dress in the whole world!” detto her daughter, Irene. “The duchess will Amore it.”
“It is nice,” her mother admitted. “But, dumpling, it’s for tonight’s ball, and I don’t have the strength to bring it. I feel sick.”


“Poor Mama,” detto Irene. “I can get it there!”
“No, cupcake, I can’t let you,’ detto Mrs. Bobbin. “Such a huge package, and it’s such a long way to the palace. Besides, it’s starting...
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