Edwinstree Middle School Reading Journal and Anthology Cats

Edwinstree Middle School Reading Journal and Anthology Cats Name: 1

Contents The Tyger by William Blake Mr. Mistoffelees byts Eliot Growltiger's Last Stand by TS Eliot Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat by TS Eliot Macavity: The Mystery Cat by TS Eliot Concrete Cat by Dorthi Charles The Owl and the Pussy-cat by Edward Lear Jim by Hilaire Belloc The Lion and Albert by Marriott Edgar The Kitten and Fallen Leaves by William Wordsworth Sizzling Chilli Further Reading: The Lamb by William Blake 2

Home Learning Guide Ideas to choose from Cool Chilli including Medium Chilli essential learning Read and explore the Annotate a poem poems use The Reading Detective (above) to develop your reading skills. Explore the structure of a poem (see below) Hot Chilli Compare two poems Collect new words and find their meanings Write a summary of a poem Use evidence from a poem to draw a picture Write sentences for new words you have found Write your own questions (Use The Reading Detective in the Linking Literacy Passport) Fully consider a character and create a written character portrait Use new words in your own writing Use PEA to answer questions Write a cat poem 3

Can I explore the structure of a poem? Hot chilli Can I compare the structure of two poems? How many lines and verses are there? Is there a regular pattern? Which sound devices are used? Is there a rhyme pattern? Is there a rhythm? How is punctuation used? How does the focus shift? 4

We will analyse this poem in class The Tyger by William Blake Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 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? And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 5

Mr. Mistoffelees by TS Eliot We will analyse this poem in class You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees! The Original Conjuring Cat-- (There can be no doubt about that). Please listen to me and don't scoff. All his Inventions are off his own bat. There's no such Cat in the metropolis; He holds all the patent monopolies For performing surprising illusions And creating eccentric confusions. At prestidigitation And at legerdemain He'll defy examination And deceive you again. The greatest magicians have something to learn From Mr. Mistoffelees' Conjuring Turn. Presto! Away we go! And we all say: OH! Well I never! Was there ever A Cat so clever As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees! He is quiet and small, he is black From his ears to the tip of his tail; He can creep through the tiniest crack, He can walk on the narrowest rail. He can pick any card from a pack, He is equally cunning with dice; He is always deceiving you into believing That he's only hunting for mice. He can play any trick with a cork Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste; If you look for a knife or a fork And you think it is merely misplaced-- You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn! But you'll find it next week lying out on the lawn And we all say: OH! Well I never! Was there ever A Cat so clever As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees! His manner is vague and aloof, You would think there was nobody shyer-- But his voice has been heard on the roof When he was curled up by the fire. And he's sometimes been heard by the fire When he was about on the roof-- (At least we all heard that somebody purred) Which is incontestable proof Of his singular magical powers: And I have known the family to call Him in from the garden for hours, While he was asleep in the hall. And not long ago this phenomenal Cat Produced seven kittens right out of a hat! And we all said: OH! Well I never! Did you ever Know a Cat so clever As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees! 6

Growltiger's Last Stand by TS Eliot Growltiger was a Bravo Cat, who lived upon a barge; In fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large. From Gravesend up to Oxford he pursued his evil aims, Rejoicing in his title of "The Terror of the Thames." His manners and appearance did not calculate to please; His coat was torn and seedy, he was baggy at the knees; One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why, And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye. The cottagers of Rotherhithe knew something of his fame, At Hammersmith and Putney people shuddered at his name. They would fortify the hen-house, lock up the silly goose, When the rumour ran along the shore: GROWLTIGER'S ON THE LOOSE! Woe to the weak canary, that fluttered from its cage; Woe to the pampered Pekinese, that faced Growltiger's rage. Woe to the bristly Bandicoot, that lurks on foreign ships, And woe to any Cat with whom Growltiger came to grips! But most to Cats of foreign race his hatred had been vowed; To Cats of foreign name and race no quarter was allowed. The Persian and the Siamese regarded him with fear - Because it was a Siamese had mauled his missing ear. Now on a peaceful summer night, all nature seemed at play, The tender moon was shining bright, the barge at Molesey lay. All in the balmy moonlight it lay rocking on the tide - And Growltiger was disposed to show his sentimental side. His bucko mate, Grumbuskin, long since had disappeared, For to the Bell at Hampton he had gone to wet his beard; And his bosun, Tumblebrutus, he too had stol'n away - In the yard behind the Lion he was prowling for his prey. In the forepeak of the vessel Growltiger sat alone, Concentrating his attention on the Lady Griddlebone. And his raffish crew were sleeping in their barrels and their bunks - As the Siamese came creeping in their sampans and their junks. 7

Growltiger had no eye or ear for aught but Griddlebone, And the Lady seemed enraptured by his manly baritone, Disposed to relaxation, and awaiting no surprise - But the moonlight shone reflected from a thousand bright blue eyes. And closer still and closer the sampans circled round, And yet from all the enemy there was not heard a sound. The lovers sang their last duet, in danger of their lives - For the foe was armed with toasting forks and cruel carving knives. Then Gilbert gave the signal to his fierce Mongolian horde; With a frightful burst of fireworks the Chinks they swarmed aboard. Abandoning their sampans, and their pullaways and junks, They battened down the hatches on the crew within their bunks. Then Griddlebone she gave a screech, for she was badly skeered; I am sorry to admit it, but she quickly disappeared. She probably escaped with ease, I'm sure she was not drowned - But a serried ring of flashing steel Growltiger did surround. The ruthless foe pressed forward, in stubborn rank on rank; Growltiger to his vast surprise was forced to walk the plank. He who a hundred victims had driven to that drop, At the end of all his crimes was forced to go ker-flip, ker-flop. Oh there was joy in Wapping when the news flew through the land; At Maidenhead and Henley there was dancing on the strand. Rats were roasted whole at Brentford, and at Victoria Dock, And a day of celebration was commanded in Bangkok. 8

9 Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat by TS Eliot There's a whisper down the line at 11:39 When the Night Mail's ready to depart, Saying 'Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble? We must find him or the train can't start.' All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster's daughters They are searching high and low, Saying 'Skimble where is Skimble for unless he's very nimble Then the Night Mail just can't go.' At 11:42 then the signal's nearly due And the passengers are frantic to a man - Then Skimble will appear and he'll saunter to the rear: He's been busy in the luggage van! He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes And the signal goes 'All Clear!' And we're off at last for the northern part Of the Northern Hemisphere! You may say that by and large it is Skimble who's in charge Of the Sleeping Car Express. From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards He will supervise them all, more or less. Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces Of the travellers in the First and in the Third; He establishes control by a regular patrol And he'd know at once if anything occurred. He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking And it's certain that he doesn't approve Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet When Skimble is about and on them ove. You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks! He's a Cat that cannot be ignored; So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail When Skimbleshanks is aboard. Oh it's very pleasant when you have found your little den With your name written up on the door. And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet And there's not a speck of dust on the floor. There is every sort of light - you can make it dark or bright; There's a button that you turn to make a breeze. There's a funny little basin you're supposed to wash your face in And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.

Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly 'Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?' But Skimble's just behind him and was ready to remind him, For Skimble won't let anything go wrong. And when you creep into your cosy berth And pull up the counterpane, You are bound to admit that it's very nice To know that you won't be bothered by mice - You can leave all that to the Railway Cat, The Cat of the Railway Train! In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright; Every now and then he has a cup of tea With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he's keeping on the watch, Only stopping here and there to catch a flea. You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew That he was walking up and down the station; You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle, Where he greets the stationmaster with elation. But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police If there's anything they ought to know about: When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait - For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out! He gives you a wave of his long brown tail Which says: 'I'll see you again! You'll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail The Cat of the Railway Train.' 10

Macavity: The Mystery Cat by TS Eliot We will analyse this poem in class Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law. He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair: For when they reach the scene of crime Macavity's not there! Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare, And when you reach the scene of crime Macavity's not there! You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there! Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin; You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed; His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake. Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity. You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there! He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.) And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled, Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there! And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair But it's useless to investigate Macavity's not there! And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say: It must have been Macavity!' but he's a mile away. You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumb; Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums. 11

Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare: At whatever time the deed took place MACAVITY WASN'T THERE! And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime! 12

The Owl and the Pussy-cat by Edward Lear I The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, 'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!' II Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?' They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose. III 'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.' So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon. 13

Jim by Hilaire Belloc Who ran away from his Nurse and was eaten by a Lion There was a Boy whose name was Jim; His Friends were very good to him. They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam, And slices of delicious Ham, And Chocolate with pink inside And little Tricycles to ride, And read him Stories through and through, And even took him to the Zoo-- But there it was the dreadful Fate Befell him, which I now relate. You know--or at least you ought to know, For I have often told you so-- That Children never are allowed To leave their Nurses in a Crowd; Now this was Jim's especial Foible, He ran away when he was able, And on this inauspicious day He slipped his hand and ran away! The Honest Keeper heard his cry, Though very fat he almost ran To help the little gentleman. ``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came (For Ponto was the Lion's name), ``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown, ``Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!'' The Lion made a sudden stop, He let the Dainty Morsel drop, And slunk reluctant to his Cage, Snarling with Disappointed Rage. But when he bent him over Jim, The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim. The Lion having reached his Head, The Miserable Boy was dead! He hadn't gone a yard when--bang! With open Jaws, a lion sprang, And hungrily began to eat The Boy: beginning at his feet. Now, just imagine how it feels When first your toes and then your heels, And then by gradual degrees, Your shins and ankles, calves and knees, Are slowly eaten, bit by bit. No wonder Jim detested it! No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!'' When Nurse informed his Parents, they Were more Concerned than I can say:-- His Mother, as She dried her eyes, Said, ``Well--it gives me no surprise, He would not do as he was told!'' His Father, who was self-controlled, Bade all the children round attend To James's miserable end, And always keep a-hold of Nurse For fear of finding something worse. 14

The Lion and Albert by Marriott Edgar There s a famous seaside place called Blackpool, That s noted for fresh air and fun, And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom Went there with young Albert, their son. A grand little lad was young Albert, All dressed in his best; quite a swell With a stick with an orse s ead andle, The finest that Woolworth s could sell. They didn t think much to the Ocean: The waves, they was fiddlin and small, There was no wrecks and nobody drownded, Fact, nothing to laugh at at all. So, seeking for further amusement, they paid and went into the Zoo, Where they d Lions and Tigers and Camels, And old ale and sandwiches too. There were one great big Lion called Wallace; His nose were all covered with scars- He lay in a somnolent posture, With the side of his face on the bars. Now Albert had heard about Lions, How they was ferocious and wild- To see Wallace lying so peaceful, Well, it didn t seem right to the child. So straightway the brave little feller, Not showing a morsel of fear, Took his stick with it s orse s ead andle...and pushed it in Wallace s ear. You could see that the Liion didn t like it, For giving a kind of a roll, He pulled Albert inside the cage with im, And swallowed the little lad ole. Then Pa, who had seen the occurence, And didn t know what to do next, Said Mother! Yon Lion s et Albert, And Mother said, Well I am vexed! Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom- Quite rightly, when all s said and done- Complained to the Animal Keeper, That the Lion had eaten their son. The keeper was quite nice about it; He said What a nasty mishap. Are you sure that it s your boy he s eaten? Pa said Am I sure? There s his cap! The manager had to be sent for. He came and he said What s to do? Pa said Yon Lion s et Albert, And im in his Sunday clothes, too. The Mother said, Right s right, young feller; I think it s a shame and a sin, For a lion to go and eat Albert, And after we ve paid to come in. The manager wanted no trouble, He took out his purse right away, Saying How much to settle the matter? And Pa said What do you usually pay? But Mother had turned a bit awkward When she thought where her Albert had gone. She said No! someone s got to be summonsed - So that was decided upon. Then off they went to the P lice Station, In front of the Magistrate chap; They told im what happened to Albert, And proved it by showing his cap. The Magistrate gave his opinion That no one was really to blame And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms Would have further sons to their name. At that Mother got proper blazing, And thank you, sir, kindly, said she. What waste all our lives raising children To feed ruddy Lions? Not me! 15

The Kitten and Fallen Leaves by William Wordsworth THAT way look, my Infant, lo! What a pretty baby-show! See the Kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves--one--two--and three- From the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair, Eddying round and round they sink Softly, slowly: one might think, From the motions that are made, Every little leaf conveyed Sylph or Faery hither tending,-- To this lower world descending, Each invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute. ----But the Kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! First at one, and then its fellow Just as light and just as yellow; There are many now--now one-- Now they stop and there are none. What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire! With a tiger-leap half-way Now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then Has it in her power again: Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjurer; Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart. Were her antics played in the eye Of a thousand standers-by, Clapping hands with shout and stare, What would little Tabby care For the plaudits of the crowd? Over happy to be proud, Over wealthy in the treasure Of her own exceeding pleasure! 'Tis a pretty baby-treat; Nor, I deem, for me unmeet; Here, for neither Babe nor me, Other play-mate can I see. Of the countless living things, That with stir of feet and wings (In the sun or under shade, Upon bough or grassy blade) And with busy revellings, Chirp and song, and murmurings, Made this orchard's narrow space, And this vale so blithe a place; Multitudes are swept away Never more to breathe the day: Some are sleeping; some in bands Travelled into distant lands; Others slunk to moor and wood, Far from human neighbourhood; And, among the Kinds that keep With us closer fellowship, With us openly abide, All have laid their mirth aside. Where is he that giddy Sprite, Blue-cap, with his colours bright, Who was blest as bird could be, Feeding in the apple-tree; Made such wanton spoil and rout, Turning blossoms inside out; Hung--head pointing towards the ground- Fluttered, perched, into a round Bound himself, and then unbound; Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin! Prettiest Tumbler ever seen! Light of heart and light of limb; What is now become of Him? Lambs, that through the mountains went Frisking, bleating merriment, When the year was in its prime, They are sobered by this time. If you look to vale or hill, If you listen, all is still, Save a little neighbouring rill, That from out the rocky ground Strikes a solitary sound. 16

17 Vainly glitter hill and plain, And the air is calm in vain; Vainly Morning spreads the lure Of a sky serene and pure; Creature none can she decoy Into open sign of joy: Is it that they have a fear Of the dreary season near? Or that other pleasures be Sweeter even than gaiety? Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell In the impenetrable cell Of the silent heart which Nature Furnishes to every creature; Whatsoe'er we feel and know Too sedate for outward show, Such a light of gladness breaks, Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks,-- Spreads with such a living grace O'er my little Dora's face; Yes, the sight so stirs and charms Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms, That almost I could repine That your transports are not mine, That I do not wholly fare Even as ye do, thoughtless pair! And I will have my careless season Spite of melancholy reason, Will walk through life in such a way That, when time brings on decay, Now and then I may possess Hours of perfect gladsomeness. --Pleased by any random toy; By a kitten's busy joy, Or an infant's laughing eye Sharing in the ecstasy; I would fare like that or this, Find my wisdom in my bliss; Keep the sprightly soul awake, And have faculties to take, Even from things by sorrow wrought, Matter for a jocund thought, Spite of care, and spite of grief, To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.

The Lamb by William Blake Sizzling Chilli: Compare this to The Tyger Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little lamb, I ll tell thee; Little lamb, I ll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee! 18

19

20

21

22

23

24