For the final Thursday short poem of the year (the next one shall "epiph" on January 6), I'm going to stick up the Christmas classic that far too few folks know. My mother recites it every year -- it wouldn't be Christmas without it. The first Christmas I remember hearing it, I was five. Yes, to those five readers who read my old Blogspot blog (long since vanished), I did stick this up last year. I dream of the day I can recite it to my own children.
King John's Christmas, AA Milne
King John was not a good man --
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air --
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.
King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon...
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They'd given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.
King John was not a good man,
He lived his live aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
"TO ALL AND SUNDRY - NEAR AND FAR -
F. Christmas in particular."
And signed it not "Johannes R."
But very humbly, "Jack."
"I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don't mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!"
King John was not a good man --
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to this room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
"I think that's him a-coming now!"
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
"He'll bring one present, anyhow --
The first I had for years."
"Forget about the crackers,
And forget the candy;
I'm sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don't like oranges,
I don't want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!"
King John was not a good man,
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: "As I feared,
Nothing again for me!"
"I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts!
And, oh! if Father Christmas, had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red,
india-rubber ball!"
King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all ...
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!
AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA-RUBBER
BALL!
ooh, I've never read or heard that one before, and I'm sorry I missed it for so many years. 'Delightful' is not a word I use often, but it's the first that came to mind upon finishing this. Thank you for sharing it. And Merry Christmas. :)
Posted by: lorie | December 23, 2004 at 08:20 AM
Milne is one of the glories of Civilisation. I reread Milne every year, with greater pleasure than before. Blessings on you too, Hugo.
Posted by: John | December 23, 2004 at 03:04 PM
wonderful Hugo. i hope you're having a Merry Christmas over in England!
Posted by: annika | December 28, 2004 at 10:43 PM
One of the poems I've had memorised since childhood. A true gem. Nice to know others feel the same way. :)
Posted by: Karen | April 06, 2005 at 07:34 PM
I was looking for this on the web to read at a special holiday service in my Unitarian-Universalist church, and came across your site. Best wishe for the 2005 holiday season!
Posted by: Melissa | November 24, 2005 at 08:59 AM
Thank you soo much!! I used to have this in an old children’s Christmas book, which has long since been "mislaid". I know now that I am not going crazy, and my search for King John and his Indian rubber ball is finally over. Thank you again for brightening up my day...have a wonderful Christmas...and keep spreading that good old fashioned cheer!!! kt
Posted by: Kate | November 28, 2006 at 10:19 AM
My mother used to read this to me every Christmas. Now I plan to read it to my children. Thank you so much for posting this.
Posted by: Melody McCaslin | December 17, 2006 at 10:39 AM
Ilove it and would like to copy it. Why can't I?
Posted by: Ruth | October 28, 2007 at 12:26 PM
I have seen it a few times, performed at Christmas.
Posted by: Ruth | October 28, 2007 at 12:27 PM
This, along with about a dozen other "When we were very young" and "Now we are six" poems, were an essential part of my childhood, and I hope my childrens', although that is their decision. My mother read them to my siblings and me, and when I read King John or The King's Breakfast, it is her voice I hear. I recently read them to my grandchildren, and they were fascinated, but I only see them rarely, so I hope my daughter keeps them in her bedtime story routine. I did read the entire two books again not long ago, seeing if there were any classics that we had somehow missed, but with one possible exception, I came to the conclusion that we had covered the best and very good they are too. Taken with all the Winnie the Pooh stories, they are timeless treasures and worthy of revisiting from time to time.
Posted by: Garry Prior | September 26, 2009 at 02:51 AM
Yip spot on I love this poem!
Posted by: Sophia Burton | December 22, 2009 at 01:05 AM