Program

Monday: Songs
Tuesday: Rhythmic Activities
Wednesday: Pictures
Thursday: Story
Friday: Dramatic Play

Lesson 1:   Sept. 11, 1950

Music: Indian Song (Tribal Song) [I have never heard this song again, 
and have absolutely no idea of its origin.]
Art: The Solemn Pledge (Ufer)
Literature: Why All Mice Look Alike (Lindermann) [I believe this was a retelling
of a narrative poem, "The Mouse that Gnawed the Oak Tree Down"]

INDIAN SONG

A-ha-Hi-a-ha! Hear the cry of the warrior bold
A-ha-Hi-a-ha! Fearless I of the foes of old
A-ha-Hi-a-ha! Fearless chief I will weave for thee
I sing: Hi-a-ha! Valiant chief, thou shalt fight for me 


Lesson II: Sept. 18, 1950

Music:
Rounded up in Glory (Oscar J. Fox)
Old Paint (arranged by Fox)
When the Bloom is on the Sage (Popular)
Home on the Range (cowboy song)
[I don't think I've ever heard any of these songs again, except for 
the familiar "Home on the Range". I've always wondered 
about the word dony, which I've never encountered again, 
except in a list of words of Gullah origin in a book on 
Black English. "Won't stand" must mean "can't be restrained."]

Art:
The Horse Wrangler (Dunton)
Texas Night Herders (Johnson)

Literature:
The Yearling (Bishop)
The Cowpuncher

ROUNDED UP IN GLORY

I've been thinking today as my thoughts began to stray
Of your memory to me worth more than gold;
As you ride across the plain 'mid the sunshine and the rain
You'll be rounded up in glory by and by.

You will be rounded up in glory by and by,
You will be rounded up in glory by and by,
When the milling time is o'er,
And you will stampede no more,
When they round you up within the master's fold.

OLD PAINT

My feet are in the stirrups, my bridle's in my hand,
Goodbye, my little dony, My pony won't stand.
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne; [repeat]
I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne, I'm off for Montan'
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne. [repeat]

WHEN THE BLOOM IS ON THE SAGE

When it's round-up time in Texas, and the bloom is on the stage,
Then I long to be in Texas, back a-ridin' on the range,
Where the purple hills are callin', callin' to me from afar,
To be back again, to the Rio Grande, and the lonely Texas Star.
How I'm longin' to be livin', where the prairie flowers grow,
I'd be willin' to start walkin' to the land that I love so.
How it beckons, and I reckon I would work for any wage,
To be free again, just to be again, where the bloom is on the sage.

HOME ON THE RANGE [text omitted]


Lesson III: Sept. 25, 1950

Music:
Follow the Gleam (Hymn) [See below.]
The Brotherhood of Man (Auber) [See below.]

Art:
Sir Galahad (Watts)
Song of the Lark (Breton)

Literature:
Parsifal (a legend)

FOLLOW THE GLEAM

To knights in the days of old,
Keeping vigil on mountain height,
Came a vision of Holy Grail
And a voice through the waiting night.
Follow, follow, follow the Gleam,
Banners unfurled over the world;
Follow, follow, follow the Gleam
Of the chalice that is the Grail.

And we who would serve the King,
And loyally Him obey,
In the consecrate silence know,
That the challenge still holds today:
Follow, follow, follow the Gleam,
Standards of worth over he earth,
Follow, follow, follow the Gleam,
Of the Light that shall bring the dawn.

[Words by Helen Hill Miller, music by Sallie Hume Douglas, 1915. 
This song won the 1920 Silver Bay Prize at Bryn Mawr College, Pennsylvania.
Text differences: Keeping watch on the mountain height, o'er all the earth.
The phrase "Follow the Gleam" is supposedly taken from Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Merlin and the Gleam", 1889.]


THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN

The glory of Truth is our cry,
Right and Justice the arms of our might;
No eagle of gold tops our standard unrolled,
Olive crowned is our banner of white.
And onward we march with a song
Bidding nations and brothers to band,
Till breaketh the morn of a world newly born,
All in friendship together we stand.
Let all unite in Freedom's name;
The glorious word of Truth proclaim.
Truth proclaim, till the shadows of night
Disappear in the light from above,
A kingdom shall rise with its crest in the skies,
Called the kingdom of Brotherly Love.

[Perhaps Daniel-François Auber 1782-1871, composer of Manon Lascaut. 
I've only once again heard this tune, attributed perhaps to another composer.]


Lesson IV: Oct. 2, 1950

Music
The Smith (Mascagni)
The Anvil Chorus (Verdi)

Art:
Shoeing the Bay Mare (Landseer)
Samson Carrying Away the Gates of Gaza (Motte)

Literature
The Rhythmic Pair (Bishop)


THE SMITH

Winds of eve are freshly blowing,
Home the shepherd boy is going,
Still the forge is brightly glowing,
Though the summer day is sped.
Hammer on the anvil ringing,
Lustily the smith is singing,
Ruddy sparks are upward flinging, 
As he smites the iron red.

Kling! Klang! Here's a proper shoe, sir;
Kling! Klang! Twice as good as new, sir!
Tap, tap, tap it lightly,
Rap, rap, rap it rightly, tap away.
Kling! Klang! Ready in a wink, sir!
Kling! Klang! Just another clink, sir!
One crown is the bill, and so farewell until another day.

Happy is the smith and jolly,
Foe to grief and melancholy,
Discontent to him is folly,
So he sings the hours away.
Busily his trade pursuing,
While there is a horse for shoeing,
He is up and ever doing, 
At the dawning of the day.

ANVIL CHORUS

God of our nations, in glory enthroned,
Upon our loved country Thy blessings pour;
Guide us in wisdom, let Truth live triumphant
And Freedom abide with us evermore.

Proudly our banner now gleams with golden luster
Brighter each star shines within our glorious cluster.
Hail! Hail! Freedom evermore.
And truth triumphant, and truth triumphant,
Throughout our glorious land.


Lesson V: Oct. 9, 1950

Music:
Fleecy Clouds (Minuet in G) (Beethoven)
Welcome Sweet Springtime (Melody in F) (Rubenstein)

Art:
Spring (Botticelli)
Peaceful Life on the Ranch (Burminghaus)
White Poppies (Silva)

Literature:
Persephone (Greek Myth)

FLEECY CLOUDS

Fleecy clouds are drifting slowly by,
Through the sky, blue on high;
Silver argosies of dreams that swim
To vague ports beyond horizons dim. (Repeat)

Ye ships of the air, 
What is it ye bear?
Fleecy clouds that drift so softly by
Through the sky, blue on high. (Repeat)

WELCOME SWEET SPRINGTIME

Welcome, sweet Springtime! We greet thee in song,
Murmurs of gladness fall on the ear,
Voices long hushed now their full notes prolong
Echoing far and near.
Sunshine now wakes all the flow'rets from sleep,
Joy-giving incense floats on the air;
Snow-drop and primrose both timidly peep, 
Hailing the glad new year.

Balmy and life-breathing breezes are blowing,
Swiftly to nature new vigor bestowing.
Ah, how my heart beats with rapture anew,
As earth's fairest beauties again meet my view.  (Rest...)

Sing then, ye birds: raise your voices on high;
Flow'rets awake ye! Burst into bloom!
Springtime is come! and sweet Summer is nigh,
Sing then, ye birds, O sing!


Lesson VI: Oct. 16, 1950

Music:
Lullaby (Brahms)
Slumber Song (Schubert)
Slumber Boat (Jessie L. Gaynor)

Art:
Feeding Her Birds (Millet)
Children of the Shell (Murillo)
The Keeper of the Herd (Millet)

Literature:
Joan of Arc (Legend)


LULLABY

Lullaby and good night, 
To cheeks rosy bright,
To fingers safe hid
'Neath coverlet white;
And again, if God will
Thou  shalt wake with the morn,
And again, if God will
Thou  shalt wake with the morn.

SLUMBER SONG

Slumber sweetly,
Slumber O my baby;
O'er you sleeping
Mother watch will keep.
In the morning
When the sun is shining,
Thou shalt waken
From thy gentle sleep.

THE SLUMBER BOAT

Baby's boat the silver moon,
Sailing in the sky,
Sailing o'er the sea of sleep,
While the clouds float by.
Sail, baby, sail,
Out upon that sea,
Only don't forget to sail,
Back again to me.


Lesson VII: Oct. 23, 1950

Music:
Polly Wolly Doodle (Old American) [text omitted]
I Love Geography (Wilson)
Trippole, Trappole (Italian Folk Song)

Art: Shadow Pictures

Literature
The Water Ghost (Banks)

I LOVE GEOGRAPHY

Maine is an island in Asia, France is a river in Spain,
Coconuts grow on a mountain of snow,
Deserts are covered with rain;
China is bordered by Norway, Texas is south of Peru,
Persia's a sea, and Vermont is a tree,
I adore knowledge, don't you?

I love ge-og-ra-phy, og-ra-phy, og-ra-phy
I love ge-og-ra-phy, with rapture the pages I turn.
I love ge-og-ra-phy, og-ra-phy, og-ra-phy
I love ge-og-ra-phy, because it's so easy to learn.

Crocodiles come from Chicago, rivers flow backward up-hill
Grass is quite rare, the equator is square,
Utah is east of Brazil.
Kansas is full of volcanoes, Switzerland's right on the coast.
Knowledge, you see, simply fascinates me,
I love ge-og-ra-phy most.


TRIPPOLE, TRAPPOLE (LAUGHING SONG)

Borne by the breeze we glide away,
Fast flies our happy summer day;  Singing we go,
Blow, breezes, blow, swift to the shore where summer flowers grow. 
Fast flies the day, bear us away, 
Blow, breezes, blow.

Trip-po-le, trap-po-le, trip-po-le, trap-po-le,
Trip-po-le, trap-po-le, trip-po-le, tra!
Singing we go, blow, breezes, blow, blow, gentle breezes, blow!

Oh, mystic island ever blest, isle where the curlew makes her nest, 
Sailing to thee, hearts light and free,
Hither we come, oh, jewel of the sea.
Isle of the blest, isle of the west, gaily we sail to thee!


Lesson VIII: Oct. 30, 1950

Music:
Blow the Man Down (American Chantey)
Sailing Song (Franz Lehar)
A Capital Ship (English Chantey)

Art:
Moonlight on Wood's Island Light (Homer)
The Return of the Fisherman (Sarolla)

Literature:
Horace Greeley's Stagecoach Ride (Artemus Ward)

A CAPITAL SHIP

A capital ship for an ocean trip was the Walloping Window Blind.
No wind that blew dismayed her crew or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was made to feel contempt for the wildest blow,
Though it often appeared when the gale had cleared 
That he'd been in his bunk below. 

Then blow, ye winds, heigh ho. A-roving I will go.
I'll stay no more on England's shore, so let the music play-ay-ay.
I'm off on the morning train. I'll cross the raging main.
I'm off to my love with a boxing glove, ten thousand miles away.

The boswain's mate was very sedate, yet fond of amusement, too;
He played hopscotch with the starboard watch while the captain tickled the crew,
And the gunner we had was apparently mad, for he sat on the after rai-ai-ail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots in the teeth of the blooming gale.

The captain sat on the commodore's hat and dined in a royal way,
Off toasted pigs and pickles and figs and gunnery bread each day,
And the cook was Dutch & behaved as such, for the diet he gave the crew-ew-ew
Was a number of tons of hot cross buns, served up with sugar and glue.

All nautical pride we laid aside, and we ran the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles where the Poo-poo smiles and the rub-bly Up-dugs roar. 
And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge and shot at the whistling bee-ee-ee,
And the cinnamon bats wore waterproof hats as they dipped in the shiny sea.

On Rugbug bark from morn till dark, we dined till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk; when a Chinese junk came up from the Torribly Zone.
She was chubby & square, but we didn't much care, so we cheerily put out to sea,  
And we left all the crew of the junk to chew on the bark of the Rugbug tree.

BLOW THE MAN DOWN	

Come all you young fellows that follow the sea,
Yo ho! Blow the man down.
Now please pay attention and listen to me, 
Give me some time to blow the man down.
On board a Black Baller I first served my time,
Yo ho! Blow the man down.
And in the Black Baller I wasted my prime,
Give me some time to blow the man down.

SAILING (MERRY WIDOW'S WALTZ)

Sails are abroad on a silvery sea, 
flashing or dashing to windward or lee,
Now in the moonpath they darkle and gleam, 
now they are gone like a dream.

Sailing, sailing swiftly sailing, comrades sing;
Darting, dipping, sea-ward slipping, far a-wing.
Ah through sheen and shadow, starry clear or blue,
Boats obey a faithful helm and hearts are true.


Lesson IX: Nov. 6, 1950

Music:
Thanksgiving Song (Unknown)
Thanks be to God (Dickson)
This is Worth Fighting For (Popular)

Art:
Indian Harvest (Couse)

Literature:
Two Thanksgiving Gentlemen (O. Henry)

THANKSGIVING SONG	

Swing the shining sickle, cut the ripened grain,
Flash it in the sunlight, swing it once again.
Tie the golden grain-heads into shining sheaves,
Beautiful their colors as the autumn leaves.

Pick the rosy apples, pack away with care,
Gather in the corn ears, gleaming everywhere,
Now the fruits are gathered, all the grains are in,
Nuts are in the attic, corn is in the bin.

Loudly blows the north wind, through the shiv'ring trees,
Bare are all the branches, fallen all the leaves,
Gathered is the harvest for another year,
Now our day of gladness, Thanksgiving Day is here.

THANKS BE TO GOD

Thanks be to God for roses rare,
For skies of blue and sunshine fair,
For every gift I raise a prayer--
Thanks be to God!

Thanks be to God for lovely night	
For mystic fields with stars bedight;
For hours of dreams and deep delight,
Thanks be to God!

Thanks be to God for love devine,
For hopes that round my heart entwine,
For all the joy that now is mine,
Thanks be to God!

THIS IS WORTH FIGHTING FOR	

I saw a peaceful old valley with a carpet of corn for a floor,
And I heard a voice within me whisper, "This is worth fighting for!"
I saw a little old cabin, and the river that flowed by the door,
And I heard a voice within me whisper, "This is worth fighting for!"
Didn't I build that cabin? Didn't I plant that corn?
Didn't my folks before me fight for this country before I was born?
I gathered my loved ones around me and I gazed at each face I adore,
Then I heard a voice within me thunder, "This is worth fighting for!"


Lesson X: Nov. 13, 1950

La Marsellaise (de Lisle) [text omitted]
God Bless America (Irving Berlin) [text omitted]
Soldiers' Chorus (Gounod)

Art:
Arabs on the March (Schreyer)
Joan of Arc (Le Page)

Literature:
Mann Made Mutiny (Bishop)

SOLDIERS' CHORUS

Glory and love to the men of old,
Their sons may copy their virtues bold.
Courage in heart and a sword in hand,
And ready to fight or ready to die, for Fatherland. [Refrain]

Who needs bidding to dare by a trumpet blown?
Who lacks pity to spare when the field is won?
Who would fly from a foe if alone or last?
And boast he was true, as coward might do, when peril is past.
[Refrain]

Now to home again, we come, the long and fiery strife of battle over,
Rest is pleasant after toil as hard as ours beneath a stranger sun.
Many a maiden fair is here to greet her truant soldier lover,
And many a heart will fail, and brow grow pale, 
To hear the tale of peril he has seen.
We are at home; we are at home; we are at home; we are at home.
[Refrain]


Lesson XI: Nov. 20, 1950

Music:
Thanksgiving Hymn (Netherland Tune) 
(We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing)
Come Ye Thankful People Come (Elvey) (Come ye thankful people, come)
Now Thank we all our God (Cruger) (Now thank we all our God)

Art:
The Sower (Millet)
Joseph's Return From Work (Annould)
Song of the Lark (Breton)

Literature:
The First Pumpkin Pie (Anon.)


Lesson XII: Nov. 27, 1950

Music:
The Sweet Red Rose (Ingraham)
The Minuet (Demrasch) [perhaps Walter Damrosch, a well-known symphony 
conductor, narrator of a recording of Prokofiev's Peter and the Wolf.
Text extensively repunctuated.]

Art:
The Willows (Corot)
Picking Cotton (Jose Arpa)
Cotton Harvest (Brewer)

Literature:
The Last Leap (O. Henry)

THE SWEET RED ROSE

"Good morning, little rosebush,
Now pry-thee tell me true
To be as sweet, as a sweet, red rose
What must a body do? What must a body do?

To be as sweet as a sweet red rose,
A little child like you
Just grows and grows and grows and grows
And that's what it must do. 
Just grows and grows and grows and grows
And that's what it must do." 

THE MINUET

Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I could not doubt it,
How she danced, my grandma danced--long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
Turning out her little toes;
How she slowly leaned and rose--long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny,
Dimpled cheeks, too, ah, how funny,
Really quite a pretty girl--long ago.
Bless her, why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet--long ago.

Modern ways are quite alarming,
Grandma says, but boys were charming,
Girls and boys, I mean of course--long ago.
Brave but modest, grandly shy,
She would like to have us try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet--long ago.


Lesson XIII: Dec. 4, 1950

Sleep Little Jesus (Merrill Bishop)
A Christmas Lullaby (Merrill Bishop) 
[At this point your gentle transcriber fwowed up.]
Art:
Madonna di San Antonio (Raphael)
Light of the World (Hunt)
Literature: The Gift of the Magi (O. Henry)

SLEEP LITTLE JESUS

Dear little stranger, Bye-lo-bye,
Born in a manger, Bye-lo-bye,
Shepherds are kneeling, oxen are feeding,
Sleep little Jesus sleep.

Mother is singing, Bye-lo-bye,
Angels are winging, Bye-lo-bye,
Wisemen are bringing, gifts to a real king,
Sleep little Jesus sleep.

Dear and kind savior, hear us we pray,
Our gifts we're bearing, this Christmas Day,
Altars adorning, on Christmas Morning,
Sleep little Jesus sleep.


Lesson XIV: Dec. 11, 1950

The Holly and the Ivy (English) [text omitted]
Deck the Halls (Welsh) [text omitted]
Jingle Bells (Pierpont) [text omitted]

Art:
I Bring You Tidings of Great Joy (Fuhrman)

Literature:
Santa Comes to Simpson's Bar (Bret Harte)


Lesson XV: Dec. 18, 1950

O Come All Ye Faithful (J. Reading) [text omitted]
Away in a Manger (Martin Luther) [text omitted]
Hark the Herald Angels Sing (Mendelssohn) [text omitted]

Art:
Madonna di San Antonio (Raphael)
Madonna of the Chair (Raphael)
I Bring You Tidings of Great Joy (Fuhrman)

Literature:
The Other Wise Man (Henry Van Dyke)


Lesson XVI: January 2, 1951

Music:
Little John Bottlejohn [text omitted]
Sailing (Marks) [text omitted]

Art:
Moonlight on Wood's Island Light (Homer)
The Return of the Fishermen (Sarolla)

Literature:
Duck Island Light (Bishop)


Lesson XVII: January 8, 1951

Music:
The Old Refrain (Kreisler)
M-o-t-h-e-r (Morse)
Mother Machree (Molloy)

Art:
Joseph's Return from Work (Annould)
Madonna of the Rabbit (Titian)
Madonna of the Chair (Raphael)

Literature:
The Revolt of Mother (Freeman)

MOTHER MACHREE

There's a spot in my heart which no colleen may own,
There's a depth in my soul never sounded or known;
There's a place in my mem'ry, my life, that you fill,
No other can take it, no one ever will.

Sure I love the dear silver that shines in your hair,
And the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care.
I kiss the dear fingers, so toil-worn for me,
Oh, God bless you and keep you, Mother Machree!

Ev'ry sorrow or care in the dear days gone by,
Was made bright by the light of the smile in your eye;
Like a candle that's set in a window at night,
Your fond love has cheered me, and guided me right.

MOTHER

"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's growing old,
"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
"H" is for her heart of purest gold,
"E" is for her eyes, with lovelight shining,
"R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "Mother",
A word that means the world to me.

THE OLD REFRAIN

I often think of home, Dee-oo-lee-ay,
When I am all alone and far away;
I sing an old refrain, Dee-oo-lee-ay,
For it recalls to me a by-gone day.
It takes me back again to meadows fair,
Where sunlight's golden rays beam everywhere;
My childhood joys again come back to me,
My mother's face in fancy too I see.
It was my mother taught me how to sing,
And to that memory my heart will cling;
I'm never sad and lone while on my way,
As long as I can sing, Dee-oo-lee-ay.



Lesson XVIII: Jan. 15, 1951

Music:
Sweet Miss Mary (Neidlinger)
Gypsy Love Song (V. Herbert)

Art: Favorite Picture Brought In

Literature:
Mary Ann's Bargain (Bishop)

SWEET MISS MARY

You des take a li'l of de bluest of de skies,
A cloud for de lashes and you got Miss Mary's eyes,
Dats de way you feelin' w'en dey lookin' sweet at you, 
Dey twinkle in de sunshine, an it's rainin 'round 'em too.

Sweet Miss Mary, sweeter dan you know,
Is de mockin'-bird you sweetheart,
Why he singin' ter yer so? [repeat]

De rose in de garden des waits for her to pass,
En hopes dat its color des will match her cheeks at las',
Thrushes in de hedges stop dey merry mornin' song
W'enever sweet Miss Mary comes a-singin' down along.

GYPSY LOVE SONG

Slumber on, my little gypsy sweetheart,
Dream of the field and the grove;
Can you hear me,  hear me in that dreamland
Where your fancies rove?
Slumber on, my little gypsy sweetheart,
Wild little woodland dove!
Can you hear the song that tells you
All my heart's true love?