About Roald Dah:
a British novelist, short story writer, fighter pilot and screenwriter.
His parents were from Norway, but he was born in Wales, 1916. The family used to spend the summer holidays on a little Norwegian island, swimming, fishing and going by boat. When Roald was four years old, his father died, so his mother had to organise the trip alone for herself and her six children.
At school, he was always homesick. At St. Peter's Prep School, all the letters home were controlled by the headmaster, and afterwards at Repton Public School, he had to wear a horrible school uniform [with braces, waist coat, hat and lots of buttons, all black].
Poems:
a British novelist, short story writer, fighter pilot and screenwriter.
His parents were from Norway, but he was born in Wales, 1916. The family used to spend the summer holidays on a little Norwegian island, swimming, fishing and going by boat. When Roald was four years old, his father died, so his mother had to organise the trip alone for herself and her six children.
At school, he was always homesick. At St. Peter's Prep School, all the letters home were controlled by the headmaster, and afterwards at Repton Public School, he had to wear a horrible school uniform [with braces, waist coat, hat and lots of buttons, all black].
Poems:
Hey diddle diddle
Hey diddle diddle
We're all on the fiddle
And never get up until noon.
We only take cash
Which we carefully stash
And we work by the light of the moon.
We're all on the fiddle
And never get up until noon.
We only take cash
Which we carefully stash
And we work by the light of the moon.
I had a little nut-tree,
I had a little nut-tree,
Nothing would it bear.
I searched in all its branches,
But not a nut was there.
'Oh, little tree,' I begged,
'Give me just a few.'
The little tree looked down at me
Nothing would it bear.
I searched in all its branches,
But not a nut was there.
'Oh, little tree,' I begged,
'Give me just a few.'
The little tree looked down at me
And whispered, 'Nuts to you.'
I had a little nut-tree,
I had a little nut-tree,
Nothing would it bear.
I searched in all its branches,
But not a nut was there.
'Oh, little tree,' I begged,
'Give me just a few.'
The little tree looked down at me
And whispered, 'Nuts to you.'
Nothing would it bear.
I searched in all its branches,
But not a nut was there.
'Oh, little tree,' I begged,
'Give me just a few.'
The little tree looked down at me
And whispered, 'Nuts to you.'
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