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5 posters

    Struwwelpeter..

    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


    Spain Female Posts : 3067
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    Struwwelpeter.. Empty Struwwelpeter..

    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 13:53

    I don't know if any of you have heard of Struwwelpeter? My dad used to tell us these stories when we were kids. I bought the book the other day as Pete had never heard of them. I guess if you read them to the kids of today you would be had up for some sort of mental abuse Struwwelpeter.. 3077217049


    Blox it did'nt work Struwwelpeter.. 506932706

    I'll try again....


    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 13:59

    THE DREADFUL STORY OF HARRIET AND THE MATCHES

    It almost makes me cry to tell
    What foolish Harriet befell.
    Mamma and Nurse went out one day
    And left her all alone at play.
    Now, on the table close at hand,
    A box of matches chanced to stand;
    And kind Mamma and Nurse had told her,
    That, if she touched them, they would scold her.
    But Harriet said: "Oh, what a pity!
    For, when they burn, it is so pretty;
    They crackle so, and spit, and flame:
    Mamma, too, often does the same."


    The pussy-cats heard this,
    And they began to hiss,
    And stretch their claws,
    And raise their paws;
    "Me-ow," they said, "me-ow, me-o,
    You'll burn to death, if you do so."


    But Harriet would not take advice:
    She lit a match, it was so nice!
    It crackled so, it burned so clear—
    Exactly like the picture here.
    She jumped for joy and ran about
    And was too pleased to put it out.


    The Pussy-cats saw this
    And said: "Oh, naughty, naughty Miss!"
    And stretched their claws,
    And raised their paws:
    "'Tis very, very wrong, you know,
    Me-ow, me-o, me-ow, me-o,
    You will be burnt, if you do so."
    And see! oh, what dreadful thing!
    The fire has caught her apron-string;
    Her apron burns, her arms, her hair—
    She burns all over everywhere.


    Then how the pussy-cats did mew—
    What else, poor pussies, could they do?
    They screamed for help, 'twas all in vain!
    So then they said: "We'll scream again;
    Make haste, make haste, me-ow, me-o,
    She'll burn to death; we told her so."


    So she was burnt, with all her clothes,
    And arms, and hands, and eyes, and nose;
    Till she had nothing more to lose
    Except her little scarlet shoes;
    And nothing else but these was found
    Among her ashes on the ground.


    And when the good cats sat beside
    The smoking ashes, how they cried!
    "Me-ow, me-oo, me-ow, me-oo,
    What will Mamma and Nursey do?"
    Their tears ran down their cheeks so fast,
    They made a little pond at last.
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:04

    The Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb


    One day Mamma said "Conrad dear,
    I must go out and leave you here.
    But mind now, Conrad, what I say,
    Don't suck your thumb while I'm away.
    The great tall tailor always comes
    To little boys who suck their thumbs;
    And ere they dream what he's about,
    He takes his great sharp scissors out,
    And cuts their thumbs clean off—and then,
    You know, they never grow again."

    Mamma had scarcely turned her back,
    The thumb was in, Alack! Alack!

    The door flew open, in he ran,
    The great, long, red-legged scissor-man.
    Oh! children, see! the tailor's come
    And caught out little Suck-a-Thumb.
    Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go;
    And Conrad cries out "Oh! Oh! Oh!"
    Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast,
    That both his thumbs are off at last.

    Mamma comes home: there Conrad stands,
    And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;
    "Ah!" said Mamma, "I knew he'd come
    To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb."
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:09

    The Story of Augustus who would not have any Soup



    Augustus was a chubby lad;
    Fat, ruddy cheeks Augustus had;
    And everybody saw with joy
    The plump and hearty, healthy boy,
    He ate and drank as he was told
    And never let his soup get cold.

    But one day, one cold winter’s day
    He screamed out-‘Take the soup away:
    Oh, take the nasty soup away!
    I won’t have any soup today.’

    Next day begins his tale of woes,
    Quite lank and lean Augustus grows,
    Yet though he feels so weak and ill,
    The naughty fellow cries out still-
    ‘Not any soup for me I say:
    Oh, take the nasty soup away!
    I won’t have any soup today.’

    The third day comes; oh’ what a sin!
    To make himself so pale and thin.
    Yet, when the soup is put on table,
    He screams as loud as he is able,-
    ‘Not any soup for me, I say:
    Oh take the nasty soup away!
    I won’t have any soup to-day.’

    Look at him, now the fourth’s day’s come!
    He scarcely weighs a sugar-plum;
    He’s like a little bit of thread
    And on the fifth day he was dead!
    Mcqueen
    Mcqueen
     
     


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    Post by Mcqueen Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:09

    Bed time storys Struwwelpeter.. 3707059870 Kids would grow up disturbed Struwwelpeter.. 416843720 That explains a lot, Struwwelpeter.. 3025408739
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:11




    The Story of Fidgety Philip

    ~Heinrich Hoffman

    "Let me see if Philip can
    Be a little gentleman;
    Let me see if he is able
    To sit still for once at table:"
    Thus Papa bade Phil behave;
    And Mamma looked very grave.
    But fidgety Phil,
    He won't sit still;
    He wriggles,
    And giggles,
    And then, I declare,
    Swings backwards and forwards,
    And tilts up his chair,
    Just like any rocking-horse-
    "Philip! I am getting cross!"

    See the naughty, restless child
    Growing still more rude and wild,
    Till his chair falls over quite.
    Philip screams with all his might,
    Catches at the cloth, but then
    That makes matters worse again.
    Down upon the ground they fall,
    Glasses, plates, knives, forks, and all.
    How Mamma did fret and frown,
    When she saw them tumbling down!
    And Papa made such a face!
    Philip is in sad disgrace.

    Where is Philip, where is he?
    Fairly covered up you see!
    Cloth and all are lying on him;
    He has pulled down all upon him.
    What a terrible to-do!
    Dishes, glasses, snapped in two!
    Here a knife, and there a fork!
    Philip, this is cruel work.
    Table all so bare, and ah!
    Poor Papa, and poor Mamma
    Look quire cross, and wonder how
    They shall have their dinner now.
    Struwwelpeter.. Redline



    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:12

    Mcqueen wrote:Bed time storys Struwwelpeter.. 3707059870 Kids would grow up disturbed Struwwelpeter.. 416843720 That explains a lot, Struwwelpeter.. 3025408739



    Now you know why I'm deranged Struwwelpeter.. 3077217049
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 14:15



    The Story of Johnny Head-in-the-Air

    ~Heinrich Hoffman

    As he trudged along to school,
    It was always Johnny's rule
    To be looking at the sky
    And the clouds that floated by;
    But what just before him lay,
    In his way,
    Johnny never thought about;
    So that everyone cried out,
    "Look at little Johnny there,
    Little Johnny Head-in-Air!"

    Running just in Johnny's way
    Came a little dog one day;
    Johnny's eyes were still astray
    Up on high,
    In the sky;
    And he never heard them cry
    "Johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!"
    Bump!
    Dump!
    Down they fell, with such a thump,
    Dog and Johnny in a lump!

    Once, with head as high as ever,
    Johnny walked beside the river.
    Johnny watched the swallows trying
    Which was cleverest at flying.
    Oh! what fun!
    Johnny watched the bright round sun
    Going in and coming out;
    This was all he thought about.
    So he strode on, only think!
    To the river's very brink,
    Where the bank was and steep,
    And the water very deep;
    And the fishes, in a row,
    Stared to see him coming so.

    One step more! oh! sad to tell!
    Headlong in poor Johnny fell.
    And the fishes, in dismay,
    Wagged their tails and swam away.

    There lay Johnny on his face,
    With his nice red writing-case;
    But, as they were passing by,
    Two strong men had heard him cry;
    And, with sticks, these two strong men
    Hooked poor Johnny out again.

    Oh! you should have seen him shiver
    When they pulled him from the river.
    He was in a sorry plight,
    Dripping wet, and such a fright!
    Wet all over, everywhere,
    Clothes, and arms, and face, and hair:
    Johnny never will forget
    What it is to be so wet.

    And the fishes, one, two, three,
    Are come back again, you see;
    Up they came the moment after,
    To enjoy the fun and laughter.
    Each popped out his little head,
    And, to tease poor Johnny, said
    "Silly little Johnny, look,
    You have lost your writing-book!"


    Mermaid
    Mermaid
     
     


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    Post by Mermaid Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 15:22

    oh my goodness they are scary
    Gypsy
    Gypsy
     
     


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    Post by Gypsy Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 16:49

    Fabulous, just like Matilda

    MATILDA

    by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)

    WHO TOLD LIES, AND WAS BURNED TO DEATH

    ATILDA told such Dreadful Lies,
    It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
    Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
    Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
    Attempted to Believe Matilda:
    The effort very nearly killed her,
    And would have done so, had not She
    Discovered this Infirmity.
    For once, towards the Close of Day,
    Matilda, growing tired of play,
    And finding she was left alone,
    Went tiptoe to the Telephone
    And summoned the Immediate Aid
    Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.
    Within an hour the Gallant Band
    Were pouring in on every hand,
    From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.
    With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,
    They galloped, roaring through the Town,
    'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
    Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
    Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
    They ran their ladders through a score
    Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
    And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
    The Pictures up and down the House,
    Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
    In showing them they were not needed;
    And even then she had to pay
    To get the Men to go away!

    It happened that a few Weeks later
    Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
    To see that Interesting Play
    The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
    She had refused to take her Niece
    To hear this Entertaining Piece:
    A Deprivation Just and Wise
    To Punish her for Telling Lies.
    That Night a Fire did break out--
    You should have heard Matilda Shout!
    You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
    And throw the window up and call
    To People passing in the Street--
    (The rapidly increasing Heat
    Encouraging her to obtain
    Their confidence) -- but all in vain!
    For every time she shouted 'Fire!'
    They only answered 'Little Liar!'
    And therefore when her Aunt returned,
    Matilda, and the House, were Burned.
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:19

    The Story of Flying Robert



    When the rain comes tumbling down
    In the country or the town,
    All good little girls and boys
    Stay at home and mind their toys.
    Robert thought, 'No, when it pours,
    It is better out of doors.'
    Rain it did, and in a minute
    Bob was in it.
    Here you see him, silly fellow,
    Underneath his red umbrella.

    What a wind! oh! how it whistles
    Through the trees and flowers and thistles!
    It has caught his red umbrella:
    Now look at him, silly fellow—
    Up he flies
    To the skies.
    No one heard his screams and cries;
    Through the clouds the rude wind bore him,
    And his hat flew on before him.

    Soon they got to such a height,
    They were nearly out of sight.
    And the hat went up so high,
    That it nearly touched the sky.
    No one ever yet could tell
    Where they stopped, or where they fell:
    Only this one thing is plain,
    Bob was never seen again!

    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:24

    Shock-headed Peter



    Just look at him! there he stands,
    With his nasty hair and hands.
    See! his nails are never cut;
    They are grimed as black as soot;
    And the sloven, I declare,
    Never once has combed his hair;
    Anything to me is sweeter
    Than to see Shock-headed Peter.


    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:25

    Cruel Frederick







    Here is cruel Frederick, see!
    A horrid wicked boy was he;
    He caught the flies, poor little things,
    And then tore off their tiny wings,
    He killed the birds, and broke the chairs,
    And threw the kitten down the stairs;
    And oh! far worse than all beside,
    He whipped his Mary, till she cried.

    The trough was full, and faithful Tray
    Came out to drink one sultry day;
    He wagged his tail, and wet his lip,
    When cruel Fred snatched up a whip,
    And whipped poor Tray till he was sore,
    And kicked and whipped him more and more:
    At this, good Tray grew very red,
    And growled, and bit him till he bled;
    Then you should only have been by,
    To see how Fred did scream and cry!

    So Frederick had to go to bed:
    His leg was very sore and red!
    The Doctor came, and shook his head,
    And made a very great to-do,
    And gave him nasty physic too.

    But good dog Tray is happy now;
    He has no time to say 'Bow-wow!'
    He seats himself in Frederick's chair
    And laughs to see the nice things there:
    The soup he swallows, sup by sup—
    And eats the pies and puddings up.
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:26

    Merry Stories And Funny Pictures



    When the children have been good,
    That is, be it understood,
    Good at meal-times, good at play,
    Good all night and good all day—
    They shall have the pretty things
    Merry Christmas always brings.

    Naughty, romping girls and boys
    Tear their clothes and make a noise,
    Spoil their pinafores and frocks,
    And deserve no Christmas-box.
    Such as these shall never look
    At this pretty Picture-book.


    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:28

    The Story of the Inky Boys



    As he had often done before,
    The woolly-headed Black-a-moor
    One nice fine summer's day went out
    To see the shops, and walk about;
    And, as he found it hot, poor fellow,
    He took with him his green umbrella,
    Then Edward, little noisy wag,
    Ran out and laughed, and waved his flag;
    And William came in jacket trim,
    And brought his wooden hoop with him;
    And Arthur, too, snatched up his toys
    And joined the other naughty boys.
    So, one and all set up a roar,
    And laughed and hooted more and more,
    And kept on singing,—only think!—
    'Oh, Blacky, you're as black as ink!'

    Now tall Agrippa lived close by—
    So tall, he almost touched the sky;
    He had a mighty inkstand, too,
    In which a great goose-feather grew;
    He called out in an angry tone
    'Boys, leave the Black-a-moor alone!
    For, if he tries with all his might,
    He cannot change from black to white.'
    But, ah! they did not mind a bit
    What great Agrippa said of it;
    But went on laughing, as before,
    And hooting at the Black-a-moor.

    Then great Agrippa foams with rage—
    Look at him on this very page!
    He seizes Arthur, seizes Ned,
    Takes William by his little head; And they may scream and kick and call,
    Into the ink he dips them all;
    Into the inkstand, one, two, three,
    Till they are black as black can be;
    Turn over now, and you shall see.

    See, there they are, and there they run!
    The Black-a-moor enjoys the fun.
    They have been made as black as crows,
    Quite black all over, eyes and nose,
    And legs, and arms, and heads, and toes,
    And trousers, pinafores, and toys—
    The silly little inky boys!
    Because they set up such a roar,
    And teased the harmless Black-a-moor.
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:29

    The Story of the Man that went out Shooting



    This is the man that shoots the hares;
    This is the coat he always wears:
    With game-bag, powder-horn, and gun
    He's going out to have some fun.

    He finds it hard, without a pair
    Of spectacles, to shoot the hare.
    The hare sits snug in leaves and grass
    And laughs to see the green man pass.
    Now, as the sun grew very hot,
    And he a heavy gun had got,
    He lay down underneath a tree
    And went to sleep, as you may see.
    And, while he slept like any top,
    The little hare came, hop, hop, hop,
    Took gun and spectacles, and then
    On her hind legs went off again.

    The green man wakes and sees her place
    The spectacles upon her face;
    And now she's trying all she can
    To shoot the sleepy, green-coat man.
    He cries and screams and runs away;
    The hare runs after him all day
    And hears him call out everywhere:
    'Help! Fire! Help! The Hare! The Hare!'

    At last he stumbled at the well,
    Head over ears, and in he fell.
    The hare stopped short, took aim and, hark!
    Bang went the gun—she missed her mark!

    The poor man's wife was drinking up
    Her coffee in her coffee-cup;
    The gun shot cup and saucer through;
    'Oh dear!' cried she; 'what shall I do?'
    There lived close by the cottage there
    The hare's own child, the little hare;
    And while she stood upon her toes,
    The coffee fell and burned her nose.
    'Oh dear!' she cried, with spoon in hand,
    'Such fun I do not understand.'


    Gypsy
    Gypsy
     
     


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    Post by Gypsy Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:46

    These are brilliant Cru, thank you so much. I am sure when your grandson gets older he will love you reading them to him, as it is I am going to copy them and send to my girls.
    Campbell Brodie
    Campbell Brodie
     
     


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    Post by Campbell Brodie Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 17:54

    Here they are with illustrations...
    Struwwelpeter
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 18:13

    Gypsy, I bought the book for only £4 postage out here included Struwwelpeter.. 2419626307

    I will dig out the link for you xx
    Mermaid
    Mermaid
     
     


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    Post by Mermaid Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 18:26

    the pic's are good thanks LR for the link
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 18:42

    The Lone Ranger wrote:Here they are with illustrations...
    Struwwelpeter

    Thanks for that Cam Struwwelpeter.. 4248600970
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 18:57

    Here is the link to where I bought it...


    The Book Depository
    Mcqueen
    Mcqueen
     
     


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    Post by Mcqueen Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 19:00

    Cruella de Vil wrote:Here is the link to where I bought it...


    The Book Depository


    Didnt Oswald hang about there, Struwwelpeter.. 3707059870
    Cruella de Vil
    Cruella de Vil
     
     


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    Post by Cruella de Vil Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 19:02

    Not the book supository Reg Struwwelpeter.. 2419626307
    Campbell Brodie
    Campbell Brodie
     
     


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    Post by Campbell Brodie Wed 15 Feb 2012 - 19:08

    Mcqueen wrote:
    Cruella de Vil wrote:Here is the link to where I bought it...


    The Book Depository


    Didnt Oswald hang about there, Struwwelpeter.. 3707059870
    he got done in with one of these...

    Struwwelpeter.. 2Q==

    Sponsored content


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