"For although my rhyme is ragged, Tattered and jagged, Rudely rain-beaten, Rust and moth eaten, If ye take well therewith, It hath in it some pith." And it is well to remember the name of Colin Cloute at least, because a later and much greater poet borrowed that name for one of his own poems, as you shall hear. But the poem which keeps most interest for us is one which perhaps at the time it was written was thought least important. It is called The Book of Philip Sparrow. And this poem shows us that Skelton was not always bitter and biting. For it is neither bitter nor coarse, but is a dainty and tender lament written for a schoolgirl whose sparrow had been killed by a cat. It is written in the same short lines as Colin Cloute and others of Skelton's poems--"Breathless rhymes"* they have been called. These short lines remind us somewhat of the old Anglo-Saxon short half-lines, except that they rime. They are called after their author "Skeltonical." *Bishop Hall. What chiefly makes The Book of Philip Sparrow interesting is that it is the original of our nursery rime Who Killed Cock Robin? It is written in the form of a dirge, and many people were shocked at that, for they said that it was but another form of mockery that this jesting priest had chosen with which to divert himself. But I think that little Jane Scoupe at school in the nunnery at Carowe would dry her eyes and smile when she read it. She must have been pleased that the famous poet, who had been the King's tutor and friend and who had been both the friend and enemy of the great Cardinal, should trouble to write such a long poem all about her sparrow. Here are a few quotations from it:-- "Pla ce bo,* Who is there who? Di le sci, Dame Margery; Fa re my my, Wherefore and why why? For the soul of Philip Sparrow That was late slain at Carowe Among the nuns black, For that sweet soul's sake, And for all sparrows' souls, Set in our bead rolls, Pater Noster qui, With an Ave Mari, And with the corner of a creed, The more shall be your need.