Phonics Reading Program: Phonics Poems

Step Eight: consonant blends

Jack, be nimble! Jack, be quick!

Jack, jump over the candle-stick.

Jill, be nimble! Jump it too!

If Jack can do it, so can you!

Step Eleven: long ‘a’

In May the sun rays rule the day;

They rain upon the grass,

Then I would fain go out and play

And let the hours pass.

Where the grass is thick and the water’s quick

I run to chase the jays,

But they’re too fast – with a flit and a flick

We go our separate ways.

I make battle with evil men;

They gain on me like a wild pack.

Soon I face my foe again –

I lay him on his back.

The day goes on; the sun gets low;

I wave good-bye and say,

“I must go face the world but oh!

If only I could stay.”

Rain, rain, go away;

Come again another day.

Little Johnny wants to play;

Rain, rain, go to Spain,

Never show your face again.

Step Twelve: long ‘e’

A Greek queen sat down to eat.

Her meal was a real feast,

With greens and beans and beef and veal

And three ice creams at least.

Then Bea (the queen) said,

“I feel ill. I feel like I may scream.

Well I see that I will heal,

But I do hate ice cream.”

Jack Sprat could eat no fat;

His wife could eat no lean;

And so, between the two of them,

They licked the platter clean.

Upon an island hard to reach,

The East Beast sits upon his beach.

Upon the west beach sits the West Beast.

Each beach beast thinks he's the best beast.

Which beast is best?...Well, I thought at first,

That the East was best and the West was worst.

Then I looked again from the west to the east

And I liked the beast on the east beach least.

Step Thirteen: long ‘i’

In the sky

Up high

At night

The bat flies on its way.

He’s a night-sight,

And if we asked why

Here’s what he might say:

“The sun’s too bright;

I can’t stand its light

So I hide my flight from the day.”

Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

Wish I may, wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight.

Three blind mice,

Three blind mice.

See how they run.

See how they run.

They all ran after the farmer’s wife.

She cut off their tails with a carving knife

Did you ever see such a sight in your life

As three blind mice?

What are little boys made of?

Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails,

That’s what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice and everything nice,

That’s what little girls are made of.

One, two, three four five,

Once I caught a fish alive.

Six, seven, eight nine ten,

Then I let it go again.

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so.

Which finger did it bite?

My little finger on the right.

Apple, apple way up high,

I can reach you if I try.

Climb a ladder,

Hold on tight.

Pick you quickly,

Take a bite!

Good night, sleep tight.

Wake up bright

In the morning light

To do what’s right

With all your might.

Good night, sleep tight.

Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

And if they do,

Take your shoe

And knock ’em till they’re

Black and blue!

Step Fourteen: long ‘o’

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream,

Till you throw the teacher out

And she goes and screams!

Row, row, row your boat

Quickly to the coast

But don’t let it blow over

Or you will be toast!

A wise old owl sat in an oak;

The more he saw the less he spoke;

The less he spoke the more he heard;

Why can’t we all be like that bird?

A road-kill crow sits on an oak

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow,

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho).

He sees a tailor shape his coat

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow,

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho.)

“Wife, bring me my bent old bow,

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow,

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho)

That I may get that road-kill crow

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho).”

The tailor shot and missed the crow

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho).

He hit his own goat right in the nose

(Sing hay-ho, the road-kill crow

Foll de riddle, loll de riddle, hi ding ho).

Step Fifteen: long ‘u’

On that cruel night when the spooks go “Boo!”

The mood will turn to doom.

The loons hoot and the black bats swoop

And frightening beasts then loom.

By the moon’s blue light the night fairies dance.

They light the stars and fly away.

They land in cool gloom, but they make their loop

And the buds all bloom like day.

When the sun is new and the dew is fresh

The day fairies run and play.

They sit on toadstools to eat their food

And lie in beds of hay.

Step Sixteen: ‘tr’ and ‘dr’

Trick or treat, Mrs. Drack,

We’re all dressed up from front to back.

If you give us yummy candy,

Then we’ll treat you very dandy.

If it’s trail mix that you give,

We’ll feel sorry for your kids.

If you give us lima beans –

Well, we know what “trick or treat” means.

Step Seventeen: ‘ch’

It really was no miracle;

What happened was just this:

The wind began to switch,

The house, to twitch,

And suddenly the hinges started to unhitch.

Just then, the witch

To satisfy an itch

Went flying on her broomstick thumbing for a hitch.

And oh! what happened then was rich.

The house began to pitch.

The kitchen took a slitch.

It landed on the wicked witch in the middle of a ditch,

Which was not a healthy situation for the wicked witch,

Who began to twitch and was reduced to just a stitch

Of what once the wicked witch!

All around the cobbler’s bench

The monkey chased the weasel.

The monkey stopped to check his socks –

Pop! goes the weasel.

Step Eighteen: ‘sh’

She sells seashells by the seashore.

Step Twenty-One: ‘ou’ and ‘ow’

The eensy-weensy spider went up the water spout.

Down came the rain and washed the spider out.

Out came the sun and dried up all the rain

And the eensy-weensy spider went up the spout again.

Step Twenty-Two: short ‘oo’ sound

Over the river and through the woods,

To Grandmother’s house we go.

The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

Through the white and drifted snow – oh!

Over the river and through the woods,

Oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes and bites the nose

As over the ground we go.

At evening when the lamp is lit,

Around the fire my parents sit;

They sit at home and talk and sing,

And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun I crawl,

All in the dark along the wall,

And follow ’round the forest track

Away behind the sofa back.

There, in the night, where none can spy,

All in my hunter’s camp I lie,

And play at books that I have read

Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods,

These are my starry solitudes;

And there the river by whose brink

The roaring lions come to drink.

I see the others far away,

As if in firelit camp they lay,

And I, like to an Indian scout,

Around their party prowled about.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,

Home I return across the sea,

And go to bed with backward looks,

At my dear land of story-books.

Step Thirty-Nine: open and closed syllables

Lucy Locket lost her pocket;

Kitty Fisher found it.

Not a penny was there in it,

Only a ribbon ’round it.

A tisket, a tasket, a green and yellow basket,

I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I lost it.

I lost it, I lost it, on the way I lost it,

A little birdie picked it up and put it in her pocket.

Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Along came the good fairy, and she said:

“Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don’t want to see you

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

I’ll give you three chances, and if you don’t behave,

I’m going to turn you into a goon.”

Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Along came the good fairy, and she said:

“Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don’t want to see you

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

I’ll give you two more chances, and if you don’t behave,

I’m going to turn you into a goon.”

Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Along came the good fairy, and she said:

“Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don’t want to see you

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

I’ll give you one more chance, and if you don’t behave,

I’m going to turn you into a goon.”

Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest,

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Along came the good fairy, and she said:

“Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don’t want to see you

Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

I gave you three chances, and you didn’t behave,

So I’m going to turn you into a goon.”

POOF!

And the moral of the story is: Hare today, goon tomorrow.

Doctor Foster went to Gloster

In a shower of rain.

He stepped in a puddle

Right up to his middle

And never went there again.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal.

“Dust thou art, to dust returnest”

Was not spoken of the soul.

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross

To see a fine lady upon a white horse.

With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

She shall have music wherever she goes.

Belinda lived in a little white house,

With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,

And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,

And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,

And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,

And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,

But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,

And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,

Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,

And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,

And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,

Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,

But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,

Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,

They all sat laughing in the little red wagon

At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,

And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,

Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,

When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,

And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.

Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,

For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,

And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,

His beard was black, one leg was wood;

It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!

But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,

Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,

And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,

Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,

With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm

He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,

And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,

He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,

And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,

No one mourned for his pirate victim

Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate

Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,

With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,

And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,

And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,

And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,

Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,

But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Step Forty: words ending in ‘le’

Double, double, toil and trouble,

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Hush-a-bye, baby,

In the tree top.

When the wind blows,

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks,

The cradle will fall.

And down will come baby,

Cradle and all.

Step Forty-Two: ‘ea’ = short ‘e’

Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum!

I smell the blood of an Englishman!

Be he live, or be he dead,

I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!