Saturday, August 06, 2011

And all the children are now sorry / for Napoleon.


Moss part I. Southern forests, Hastings Caves State Reserve. June 2011.

This is a lovely poem, that kind of sums a lot of things up for me.
Napoleon, Miroslav Holub

Children, when was
Napoleon Bonaparte born,
asks teacher.

A thousand years ago, the children say.
A hundred years ago, the children say.
Last year, the children say.
No one knows.

Children, what did
Napoleon Bonaparte do,
asks teacher.

Won a war, the children say.
Lost a war, the children say.
No one knows.

Our butcher had a dog
called Napoleon,
says Frantisek.
The butcher used to beat him and the dog died
of hunger
a year ago.

And all the children are now sorry
for Napoleon.


Moss part II. Southern forests, Hastings Caves State Reserve. June 2011.

On another note, I spent all day as parent help in kindergarten yesterday, which was good fun. Henry did me proud and was easily one of the top three behaved. It seems that he is always very good in class! He is also a very popular lad, which never hurts.


Moss part III. Southern forests, Hastings Caves State Reserve. June 2011.

1 comment:

Roddy said...

Yeah, that was the Napoleon I was thinking of. The butchers dog.
I too used to enjoy myself as parents help at your school.
Although back then it was predominantly mothers.
Did I set a precedent? I was one, if not the only father to take on the mantle of "Mothers help".