I am sorting books and as you well know, I am easily tempted. So here is a poem from my childhood and probably yours as well!

THE PEDLAR’S CARAVAN.

I wish I lived in a caravan,
With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man!
where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;
He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell!
Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,
Plates with the alphabet round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is like a bathing-machine;
The world is round, and he can ride,
Rumble and splash to the other side!

With the pedlar man I should like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;
All the people would read my book,
Just like the travels of Captain Cook!

This was written by William Brighty Rands, and is probably late Victorian, I am not sure but around the 1900’s I would imagine. I used to love this poem as a child and haven’t seen it for years. They are out of fashion now but we used to love these very graphic rhymes. I can remember now sitting in the classroom, watching the sunshine through the window catching the chalk dust swirling in the air and listening to lovely words.

And by the way if you have a nice piece of Delf, or a Victorian plate with the alphabet around the edge, or even a pile of old wicker baskets, in good condition of course they may be worth money now