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365 bedtime stories

Chapter 4: JANUARY 2: The Rhyming Years
By Mary Graham Bonner
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About This Book

A year-long anthology of short, child-focused tales presenting one brief story for each day, blending animal fables, household incidents, seasonal scenes, and gentle fantasy. Stories are arranged by calendar day and often reflect the moods and activities of the seasons, holidays, and everyday childhood experiences. Narratives favor simple plots, quiet humor, and mild moral lessons suitable for bedtime reading, frequently featuring talking creatures, helpful fairies, and small domestic adventures. Numerous small illustrations accompany the text, reinforcing the warm, comforting tone and making the collection convenient to read aloud or share with young listeners.

JANUARY 2: The Rhyming Years

“Well,” said the Old Year, “I am going to make up a poem about myself. I feel quite poetical.”

“And,” said the New Year, “I will, too.” For the New Year didn’t want to have the Old Year think that he was unable to do anything like that, even though he was young. But he felt very much pleased when the Old Year said: “Though I have lived twelve whole months, I have not become a poet.”

“I think age should be given the right to speak first,” said the New Year.

The Old Year shook his white hair and smiled so that the wrinkles in his face all ran in together.

This is what he said:

“Yes, it is true I was feeling old,
Yes, it is true I was also cold,
Yes, it is true I heard them cheer,
Welcoming in the glad New Year.”

Then New Year recited this verse:

“Of course, you see I was out for fun,
My life has only just begun,
They said ‘He is young and full of vim,
No one can help but welcome him.’

“You mustn’t think I am conceited,” he added. “I say a lot to make my rhyme come out right.”

“Of course,” said the Old Year, “for I do too. Well. I will give my second verse. Don’t believe it all, though!” Then the Old Year took an old harp he had and he began to play and sing, and this was what he sang:

“And Poor Old Year—he almost wept
As he packed up his things and left.
But as he turned to say good-by,
Something in him made him cry:
‘Though my work is mostly done,
I, have, too, had lots of fun,
And ’ere I go upon my way,
This I certainly would say:
‘Happy New Year, big and small,
Happy New Year, short and tall,
Happy New Year, every one!
May you all have lots of fun!’”