John is there, and John has won! _Look! I told you! Here's the sun!_ PINKLE PURR Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr, A little black nothing of feet and fur; And by-and-by, when his eyes came through, He saw his mother, the big Tattoo. And all that he learned he learned from her. "I'll ask my mother," says Pinkle Purr. Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr, A ridiculous kitten with silky fur. And little black Pinkle grew and grew Till he got as big as the big Tattoo. And all that he did he did with her. "Two friends together," says Pinkle Purr. Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr, An adventurous cat in a coat of fur. And whenever he thought of a thing to do, He didn't much bother about Tattoo, For he knows its nothing to do with her, So "See you later," says Pinkle Purr. Tattoo is the mother of Pinkle Purr, An enormous leopard with coal-black fur. A little brown kitten that's nearly new Is now playing games with its big Tattoo.... And Pink looks lazily down at her: "Dear little Tat," says Pinkle Purr. WIND ON THE HILL No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes. It's flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn't keep up with it, Not if I ran. But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night. And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind Had been going there too. So then I could tell them Where the wind goes.... But where the wind comes from _Nobody_ knows. FORGOTTEN Lords of the Nursery Wait in a row, Five on the high wall, And four on the low; Big Kings and Little Kings, Brown Bears and Black, All of them waiting Till John comes back. Some think that John boy Is lost in the wood, Some say he couldn't be, Some say he could. Some think that John boy Hides on the hill; Some say he won't come back, Some say he will. High was the sun, when John went away.... Here they've been waiting All through the day; Big Bears and Little Bears, White Kings and Black, All of them waiting Till John comes back. Lords of the Nursery Looked down the hill, Some saw the sheep-fold, Some saw the mill; Some saw the roofs Of the little grey town.... And their shadows grew long As the sun slipt down. Gold between the poplars An old moon shows; Silver up the star-way The full moon rose; Silver down the star-way The old moon crept.... And, one by another, The grey fields slept.