SCHOOLS INTEGRATED PROJECT 026  

The Role of ICT as a Support To Learning  

Background

SIP Groups

Childrens Work

Toomevara NS Favourite Poems

3rd and 4th Class. Teacher Miss Y Kelly

Sweet Song.

This is the sweet song,

Song of all the sweets,

Caramel and butterscotch,   

Bullseyes, raspberry treats;

 

Treacle toffee, acid drops,

Pastilles, crystal fruits,

Bubble- gum and liquorice- sticks

As black as new gumboots;

 

Peppermint creams and aniseed balls,

Tiny sweets and whoppers,

Dolly-mixtures, chocolate drops,

Gigantic gobstoppers;

Lemon sherberts, jelly-babies,

Chocolate cream and flake,

Nougat, fudge and such as give

You tooth and belly-ache.

 

By Vernon Scannell.

 

 

         

The Turkey

 

 Turkeys donít like Christmas

 Which may come as no surprise.

 They say why donít human beings

 Pick on people their own size.

 To sit beside potatoes

 In a oven canít be fun,

So a Turkey is quite justified

To feel heís being done.

 

By Richard Diggance.

Jimmy Jet and his T.V. Set

 

I,ll tell you the story of jimmy jet Ė

And you know what I tell you is true.

He loved to watch his tv set

Almost as much as you.

               

He watched all day, he watched all night

Till he grew pale and lean,

From the Early Show to The Late Late Show

And all the shows between.

 

 

He watched till his eyes grow frozen wide,

And his bottom grew into his chair.

And his chin turned into a tuning-dial,

And antennae grew out of his hair.

And his brains turned into TV tubes,

And his face to a TV screen.

And two knobs saying VERT and HORIZ.

Grew where his ears had been.

 

 

And he grew a plug that looked like a tail.

So we plugged in little Jim.

 And now instead of him watching TV

We all sit and watch him.

 

By Shel Silverstein.

 

I Donít Want To Go To bed

 

 

I donít want to go to bed,

Iíd rather stay up late instead,

I wish you werenít so meticulous,

Bed at eight is quite ridiculous

with lots of time still left today

Tomorrow is so far away

Thereís still so much I havenít done

going to bed just isnít fun.

Look at the clock it isnít late

Iím just not going so bed can wait.

All right all right donít get cross

Iím going now I know whoís boss.

Look I Ďm nearly half way there

my foot is on the bottom stair

youíll come and read ?

You said you would

youíd better or I wonít be good.

 

By Mark Burgess

The Lane To Ballybree

 

Thereís a little lane a-winding, a crooked little lane,

A dewy, woodbine-scented lane, that leads to Ballybree;

Where the hawthorn boughs are laden with there wealth of starry bloom,

And sweetly singing little birds are heard on bush and tree.

 

Thereís a little lane a-winding, a little winding lane,

Where the furze is all in blossom like a wave of yellow gold.

And every turning in the brake you the leaves a-stirriní,

Tis the little fairy people----oh theyíre very brave and bold.

 

Thereís a little lane a-winding, a crooked little lane,

And thereís someone at the end of it whoís wishing hard for me.

There are soft winds gently blowing----a peat fire brightly glowing---

Oh Iím aching to be wandering the lane to Ballybree.

 

By Katherine Guilfoyle Edelman ( Famous Toomevara Poet)

THE STORM

Thunder! Thunder! Thunder!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Lightning flashing!

Windows smashing!

Trees crashing!

Wet! Wet! Wet!

Splish! Splash! Splosh!

Rain teeming!

Cats screaming!

Gutters streaming!

Pitter! Patter! Pat!

Drip! Drip! Drip!

The storm is done,

The sun has come,

 A rainbow has begun.

 

 

The Lion.

The lion just adores to eat

a lot of red and tender meat.

And if you ask the lion what

Is much the tenderest of   the lot. 

He will not say a roast of lamb

Or curried beef or devilled ham

 

Or crisp pork or corned beef hash

Or sausages or mutton mash.

Then could I be a big plump hen?

 He answers Ďnoí what is it, then?

Oh, lion dear could I not make

you happy with a lovely steak?

 

 

 

 

Could I entice your lair

With rabbit pie or roasted hare?

 The lion shook his head.

He came up very close and said,

Ď the meat I am about to chew

is neither steak or chops. Itís you.í

 

By Roald Dahl   

Donít Tell Me THAT I Talk Too Much!

                  

Donít tell me that I talk too much!

Donít say it!

Donít you dare!

I only say important things

Like why itís raining where.

Or when or how or why or what

Might happen here is this or there.

And why a thing is this or that

And who is bound to care.

So donít tell me I talk too much!

Donít say it!

Donít you Dare!

 

BY Arnold Spilka