1171637554 community project_manual(final)

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Table of Contents My Family, Friends, and I (Pages 3-8) 1. Jazz chant: Today is Mother’s Day (beginner) 2. Poetry: “Messy” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate) 3. Poetry: “The Little Boy and the Old Man” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 4. Poetry: “Loser” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 5. Poetry: “Tell Me” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 6. Poetry: “What If’” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 7. Poetry: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Elliot (advanced) School Life (Pages 9-12) 8. Jazz chant: First Day of School (beginner) 9. Poetry: “Sick” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate) 10. Poetry: “Smart” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 11. Dialogue: Electives and Clubs in America (intermediate) 12. Poetry: “Ode to the Book” by Pablo Neruda (advanced) Leisure Time (Pages 13-14) 13. Jazz chant: Skateboard, Water Skis Surfboard, Wow! (beginner) 14. Poetry: “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein (advanced) 15. Poetry: “Jimmy Jet and His TV Set” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate) Jobs (Pages 15-16) 16. Text: Choosing a Profession (Plakhotnyk 9 th form, page 80) 17. Dialogue: Interviews (beginner) 18. Song: “A Hard Days Night” by the Beatles (intermediate) Science and Culture (Pages 17-23) 19. Poetry: “Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats (advanced) 20. Text: The United States of America (Plakhotnyk 9 th form, page 46) 1

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Page 1: 1171637554 community project_manual(final)

Table of Contents

My Family, Friends, and I (Pages 3-8)1. Jazz chant: Today is Mother’s Day (beginner)2. Poetry: “Messy” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate) 3. Poetry: “The Little Boy and the Old Man” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)4. Poetry: “Loser” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)5. Poetry: “Tell Me” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)6. Poetry: “What If’” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 7. Poetry: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Elliot (advanced)

School Life (Pages 9-12)8. Jazz chant: First Day of School (beginner)9. Poetry: “Sick” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate)10. Poetry: “Smart” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)11. Dialogue: Electives and Clubs in America (intermediate)12. Poetry: “Ode to the Book” by Pablo Neruda (advanced)

Leisure Time (Pages 13-14)13. Jazz chant: Skateboard, Water Skis Surfboard, Wow! (beginner)14. Poetry: “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein (advanced)15. Poetry: “Jimmy Jet and His TV Set” by Shel Silverstein (intermediate)

Jobs (Pages 15-16)16. Text: Choosing a Profession (Plakhotnyk 9th form, page 80)17. Dialogue: Interviews (beginner)18. Song: “A Hard Days Night” by the Beatles (intermediate)

Science and Culture (Pages 17-23)19. Poetry: “Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats (advanced)20. Text: The United States of America (Plakhotnyk 9th form, page 46)21. Text: USA Holidays (Plakhotnyk 9th form, page 53)22. Jazz chant: Fourth of July-Red, White, and Blue (beginner)23. Jazz chant: Halloween-Halloween Parade (beginner)24. Jazz chant: Thanksgiving-Today’s Thanksgiving day (beginner) 25. Jazz chant: Christmas Colors, Christmas Sounds (beginner)26. Jazz chant: Things That are Green (beginner)27. Live Radio Broadcast with Billie Holiday (advanced)28. Song: “Me, Myself, and I” by Billie Holiday (advanced)29. Song: “Strange Fruits” by Billie Holiday (advanced)30. Song: “Autumn in New York” by Billie Holiday (advanced)

Nature and the World (Pages 24-26)

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31. Poetry: “Mr. Grumpledump's Song” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)32. Poetry: “Body Language” by Shel Silverstein (beginner) 33. Poetry: “Rain” by Shel Silverstein34. Poetry: “To Autumn” by John Keats (advanced)35. Poetry: “Ode to the Artichoke” by Pablo Neruda (advanced)

People (Pages 27-29)36. Jazz chant: Native American Chant (beginner)37. Poetry: “No Difference” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)38. Text: Roald Dahl (beginner)39. Text: Benjamin Franklin (advanced)40. Text: Martin Luther King Jr. (advanced)

Life in the Community (Pages 30-32)41. Jazz chant: New Years Resolution (beginner)42. Poetry: “Listen to the Mustn’ts” by Shel Silverstein (beginner)43. Poetry: “Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out” by

Shel Silverstein (intermediate)44. Text: The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein (beginner)

To: All the wonderful English teachers in FastivFrom: Peace Core Trainees Group 27

A special thanks to the teachers in Schools One, Two, Four and Nine for welcoming us and letting us be apart of your classes.

There is also a complete copy of this text on the CD. It will open on your computer with Microsoft Word! We hope you enjoy.

My Family, Friends, and I

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Beginner Jazz Chant Track (song) 1Time: :37 Today is Mother’s Day

Today is Mother’s Day.Let’s help Mama.I’ll make breakfast.You make lunch.I’ll do the dishes.You do the shopping.Let’s help Mama.It’s Mother’s Day.

Today is Mother’s Day.Let’s help Mama.I’ll sweep the bedrooms.You make the beds.I’ll clean the kitchen.You do the laundry.Let’s help Mama.It’s Mother’s Day.

Intermediate Poetry Track 2Time: :43 “Messy”

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!His underwear is hanging on the lamp.His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.His workbook is wedged in the window,His sweater's been thrown on the floor.His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.His books are all jammed in the closet,His vest has been left in the hall.A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.Whosever room this is should be ashamed!Donald or Robert or Willie or--Huh? You say it's mine? Oh dear,I knew it looked familiar!

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Beginner Poetry Track 3Time: :41 “The Little Boy and the Old Man” by Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."Said the old man, "I do that too."The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants.""I do that too," laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, "I often cry."The old man nodded, "So do I.""But worst of all," said the boy, "it seemsGrown-ups don't pay attention to me."And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand."I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Beginner Poetry Track 4Time: :32 “Loser” by Shel Silverstein

Mama said I'd lose my headIf it wasn't fastened on.Today I guess it wasn't 'Cause while playing with my cousinIt fell off and rolled awayAnd now it’s gone.

And I can't look for it'Cause my eyes are in it,And I can't call to it'Cause my mouth is on it(Couldn't hear me anyway

'Cause my ears are on it), Can't even think about it 'Cause my brain is in it.So I guess I'll sit down On this rockAnd rest for just a minute....

Beginner Poetry Track 5Time: :16 “Tell Me” by Shel Silverstein

Tell me I’m clever, tell me I’m kind,

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Tell me I’m talented, tell me I’m cute,Tell me I’m sensitive, tell me I’m graceful and wise,Tell me I’m perfect, but tell me the truth!

Beginner Poetry Track 6Time: 1:00 “What If” by Shel Silverstein

Last night while I lay thinking here some, what ifs crawled into my ear, And pranced and partied all night long and sang there same old what if song. What if I’m dumb in school?What if they’ve closed the swimming pool?What if I get beat up? What if there’s poison in my cup?What if I start to cry?What if I get sick and die?What if I flunk that test?What if green hair grows on my chest?What if nobody likes me?What if a bolt of lightning strikes me?What if I don’t grow tall?What if my head starts getting small?What if the fish won’t bite?What if the wind tears up my kite?What if they start a war?What if my parents get divorced?What if the bus is late?What if my teeth don’t grow in straight?What if I tear my pants?What if I never learn to dance?Everything seems well and then the nightmare what ifs strike again.

Advanced Poetry Track 7Time: 6:00 “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Elliot

Let us go then, you and I,

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When the evening is spread out against the skyLike a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreatsOf restless nights in one-night cheap hotelsAnd sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:Streets that follow like a tedious argumentOf insidious intentTo lead you to an overwhelming question…Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,And seeing that it was a soft October night,Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;There will be time, there will be timeTo prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;There will be time to murder and create,And time for all the works and days of handsThat lift and drop a question on your plate;Time for you and time for me,And time yet for a hundred indecisions,And for a hundred visions and revision,Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”Time to turn back and descend the stair,With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—(They will say “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)Do I dareDisturb the universe?In a minute there is timeFor decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

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For I have known them all already, known them all:Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;I know the voices dying with a dying fallBeneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all—The eyes that fix you in a formulate phrase,And when I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,Then how should I beginTo spot out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all—Arms that are braceleted and white and bare(But in the lamplights, downed with light brown hair!)Is it perfume from a dressThat makes me so digress?Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streetsAnd watched the smoke that rises from the pipesOf lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?... I should have been a pair of ragged clawsScuttling across the floors of silent seas. And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!Smoothed by long fingers,Asleep…tired…or it malingers,Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,Would it have been worth while,To have bitten off the matter with a smile,To have squeezed the universe into a ballTo roll it toward some overwhelming question,To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

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If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: “That is not what I meant at all; That is not it, at all.” And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, after the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the Floor—And this, and so much more?—It is impossible to say just what I mean!But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:Would it have been worth whileIf one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,And turning toward the window, should say: “That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.”No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;Am an attendant lord, one that will doTo swell a progress, start a scene or tow,Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,Deferential, glad to be of use,Politic, cautious, and meticulous;Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old…I grow old…I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the wavesCombing the white hair of the waves blown backWhen the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brownTill human voices wake us, and we drown.

Eliot, T.S. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” from The Waste Land, Prufrock and Other Poems. Mineola: Dover Publications, 1998. 1-5.

School Life

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 8

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Time: :27 First Day of School

Oh, it’s the first hourOf the first lessonOf the first day of school

Oh, it’s the first hourOf the first lessonOf the first day of school

Oh, it’s the first minuteof the first hourof the first day of school.

Oh, it’s the first secondof the first minuteof the first day of school. Hooray!

Intermediate Poetry Track 9Time: 1:59 “Sick” by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"Said little Peggy Ann McKay."I have the measles and the mumps,A gash, a rash and purple bumps.My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,I'm going blind in my right eye.My tonsils are as big as rocks,'I've counted sixteen chicken poxAnd there's one more-- that's seventeen,And don't you think that my face looks green?My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--It might be instamatic flu.I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,My belly button's caving in,My back is wretched, my ankle's sprained,My 'pendix pains each time it rains.My nose is cold, my toes are numb,I have a sliver in my thumb.My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,I hardly whisper when I speak.My tongue is filling up my mouth,

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I think my hair is falling out.My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,My temperature is one-o-eight.My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?What's that? What's that you say?You say that today is... Saturday?G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Beginner Poetry Track 10Time: :56 “Smart” by Shel Silverstein

My dad gave me one-dollar bill'Cause I'm his smartest son,And I swapped it for two shiny quarters'Cause two is more then one!

And then I took the quartersAnd traded them to LouFor three dimes-- I guess he didn't knowThat three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind BatesAnd just 'cause he can't seeHe gave me four nickels for my three dimes,And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram CoombsDown at the seed-feed store,And the fool gave me five pennies for them,And five is more than four!

And I went and showed my dad,And he got red in the cheeksAnd closed his eyes and shook his head--Too proud of me to speak!

Intermediate Dialogue Track 11

Time 1:23 Electives and Clubs in America

(Between an American student and an exchange student from Ukraine)

Sarah: Hi, my name is Sarah. Welcome to high school!

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Oxana: Thanks, my name is Oxana. I am an exchange studentfrom Ukraine.

Sarah: Cool! How do you like our school so far? Oxana: It’s great! Sarah: What classes do you have? Did you choose an

elective yet? Oxana: I have Algebra, Economics, British Literature, World

History and Physical Education, but I haven’t chosen an elective yet.

Sarah: You could take band, art, drama, wood shop, or auto shop, choir, home economics, or yearbook. There are so many choices! Are you going to join any after school clubs?

Oxana: I don’t know. Are you in any? Sarah: I am in the Student Body Government. We plan all of

our school activities, like dances, and assemblies. Last week people performed different dances from all over the world for everyone in our school. That’s the only club I’m in because I also have an after school job.

Oxana: I was thinking about playing a sport. I heard there was a girl’s American football team, it sounds like

fun. Sarah: You could play soccer, tennis, football, baseball,

basketball, volleyball, or join the track or swim team.

Oxana: Thanks for all of the information. Uh-oh, I will be late for class, bye!

Sarah: See you later! Have a great day!Vocabulary

o Elective- a class that a student may choose to take but does not have too Band- an elective where student learns how to play a musical instrumento Art- an elective where students learn how to draw, or paint, or make

sculptureso Wood Shop- an elective where students learn how to build things from woodo Auto Shop- an elective where students learn how to work on cars o Choir- an elective where students learn how to sing togethero Home Economics- an elective where students learn how to cook, and sewo Yearbook- an elective where students put together a book with pictures and

stories showing the students and the events from a school year, students purchase these books and have their friends sign them so they will always remember that year

o Assemblies- a gathering of all the students in a school for a special program

Advanced Poetry Track 12Time: 2:04

“Ode to the Book”by Pablo Neruda

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Book, when I close you I open life. I hear half-severed shouts in the harbors. Copper ingotscross the sandpits, go down to Tocopilla. It’s nighttime. Among the islands our ocean throbs with its fish. It touches the feet, the thighs, the chalky ribs of my country. The whole night sticks to its shores and with the daylight it appears singing as if it had wakened a guitar.

The beat of the ocean calls me to myself. The wind calls me to myself and Rodriquez calls me, Jose Antonio, I received a telegram from the Miners’ Union, and she, the woman I love (I won’t tell you her name), is waiting for me in Bucalemu.

Book, you were never able to put me onto paper, to fill me with typography, with heavenly printing, you were never able to bind my eyes I come out of you to populate groves with the hoarse family of my song, to work burning metals or to eat roasted meat near a campfire in the mountain.

I love books of exploration, books with forest or snow, depth or sky but I hate the spider book in which thought has laid out venomous wires to entangle the juvenile and circling fly. Book, let me go. I don’t want to walk dressed in a volume, I don’t come from a tome, my poems haven’t eaten poem, they devour passionate events, they are nourished on the outdoors, they extract food from the earth and from men. Book, let me walk on the roads with dust in my shoes and without mythology: return to your library, I’m going out into the streets.

I have learned about life from life,love I learned from a single kiss, and I couldn’t teach anyone anything except that I have lived, whatever I had in common with other men, whatever I struggled for with them: whatever I expressed of then all in my song.

Neruda, Pablo. “Ode to the Book (1)” from Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon. Trs. Stephen Mitchell. New York: HarperPerennial, 1997. 25-29.

Leisure Time

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Beginner Jazz Chant Track 13Time: :55 Skateboard, Water Skis, Surfboard, Wow!

Skateboard, water skis, surfboard, wow!Hop on your skateboard, let’s go now.Skateboard, water skis, surfboard, wow!Put on your water skis, let’s go now.

Skateboard, water skis, surfboard, wow!Hop on your surfboard, let’s go now.Skateboard, water skis, surfboard, wow!Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go now!

Hop on your skateboard, stay on the sidewalk.Hop on your surfboard, catch the wave.Hop on your skateboard, put on your water skis.Hop on your surfboard, catch the wave.

Skateboard, water skis, surfboard, wow!Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go now!

Advanced Poetry Track 14Time: :48 “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd before the street begins,And there the grass grows soft and white,And there the sun burns crimson bright,And there the moon-bird rests from his flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.Let us leave this place where the smoke blows blackAnd the dark street winds and bends.Past the pits where the asphalt flowers growWe shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And watch where the chalk-white arrows goTo the place where the sidewalk ends.Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,For the children, they mark, and the children,

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they know The place where the sidewalk ends.

Intermediate Poetry Track 15Time: :47 “Jimmy Jet And His TV Set” by Shel Silverstein

I'll tell you the story of Jimmy Jet--And you know what I tell you is true.He loved to watch his TV setAlmost as much as you. He watched all day, he watched all nightTill he grew pale and lean,From "The Early Show" to "The Late Show"And all the shows in between. He watched till his eyes were frozen wide,And his bottom grew into his chair.And his chin turned into a tuning dial,And antennae grew out of his hair. And his brains turned into TV tubes,And his face to a TV screen.And two knobs saying "vert." and "horiz."Grew where his ears had been. And he grew a plug that looked like a tailSo we plugged in little Jim.And now instead of him watching TV We all sit around and watch him.

Jobs

Plakhotnyk 9th form Text Track 16Time: 1:32 Choosing A Profession

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This year you are finishing the ninth form and must choose the way you will continue your education.

Many roads are open before the ninth form pupils. Some of them can go to the tenth form and receive complete secondary education at secondary schools. Those boys and girls who want to get a specialized secondary education can go to technical schools, teachers’ training and medical schools. But to enter these schools they must pass two examinations successfully. One examination in their native language, the other in mathematics. They will study at these schools for about four years and receive the professions of technicians (radio-assemblers, electricians and so on), primary school teachers, medical nurses and others. Many ninth form pupils nowadays prefer to go to vocational schools where they get the professions of turners, fitters, builders, shop- assistants, dress-makers, tailors and receive a complete secondary education. They learn there for three or four years.

The education at most technical schools, teachers’ training and medical schools, vocational schools as well as at institutes and universities is free of charge in our country.

Moreover the students of all kinds of specialized secondary schools and higher schools receive scholarships.

Beginner Dialogue Track 17Time: :38 Interviews

Interviewer: Hello Denice, please sit down. How are you?Denice: I am fine thank you.Interviewer: Tell me about your traits of character and qualities.Denice: I am honest, hard working, and dependable.Interviewer: Are you a leader or a follower, and why?Denice: I am a leader, because I can lead people and complete

projects.Interviewer: Why do you want to be a teacher?Denice: I want to be a teacher because I love children and to

teach.Interviewer: Tell me about your hobbies and interests.Denice: I like to read, cook, and swim.Interviewer: Thank you Denice we will be calling you soon.Denice: Thank you, good day.

Intermediate Song Track 18Time: 2:24 “A Hard Day’s Night” by the Beatles

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It’s been a hard day’s nightAnd I’ve been workin’ like a dogIt’s been a hard day’s nightI should be sleepin’ like a logBut when I get home to youI find the things that you doYou make me feel alrightYou know I work all dayTo getcha’ money to buy you thingsAnd it’s worth it just to hear you sayYou’re gonna give me everythingSo while I betcha’ don’t knowCause when I get you aloneYou know I feel alrightWhen I’m homeEverything seems to be rightWhen I’m homeFeeling you holding me tight. . . Tight Yeah!It’s been a hard day’s nightAnd I’ve been workin’ like a dogIt’s been a hard day’s nightI should be sleepin’ like a logBut when I get home to youI find the things that you doThey make me feel okaySo while I betcha’ don’t knowCause when I getcha’ aloneYou know I feel alrightWhen I’m homeEverything seems to be righ-ightWhen I’m homeFeeling you holding me tight. . . Tight Yeah!It’s been a hard day’s nightAnd I’ve been workin’ like a dogIt’s been a hard day’s nightI should be sleepin’ like a logBut when I get home to youI find the things that you doYou make me feel alrightYou know I feel alrightYou know I feel alright

Science and Culture

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Advanced Poetry Track 19Time: 2:48 “Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness! Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortal, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal – yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d, For ever panting and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high sorrowful and cloy’d, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea-shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore

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Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! With brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty, - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’

Keats, John. “Ode on a Grecian Urn” from Complete Poems and Selected Letters of John Keats. New York: The Modern Library, 2001. 238-240.

Plakhotnyk 9th form Text Track 20Time: :56 The United States of America

The USA is the richest and one of the most developed countries in the world. The territory of the USA is almost 9,400,000 square kilometers. It is washed by the Atlantic Ocean in the east, the Pacific Ocean in the west and the Arctic Ocean in the north. The population of the USA is 252 million people (1993). The climate is different in different parts of the USA: from a polar climate in Alaska to continental in the greater part of the country and subtropical and tropical in the south of the USA. The capital of the USA is Washington DC. The country is very rich in mineral resources.

Plakhotnyk 9th form Text Track 21Time: 1:37 National Holidays in the USA

The Unites States is a young country. Its independence was declared in 1776. Sometimes the USA is called the “New World”. Americans believe that if they work hard they can have what they want and be what they want. This is a part of what they call “the American Dream”. This is why Americans are so hard working. They do not take many vacations, and there are only five national holidays that are celebrated in every state. These are New Year’s Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Thanksgiving Day, and Christmas Day. On these days government offices, post offices, and banks are closed. There are other holidays, but they are not celebrated in all the states.

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Beginner Jazz Chant Track 22Time: :34 Red, White, and Blue

Fourth of July.Red, white, and blue.Hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken, too.Fourth of July.Red, white, and blue.Everybody’s coming to the barbecue!

Listen to the firecrackers!Look at the sky!My little dog hates the Fourth of July.Fourth of July.Red, white, and blue.Everybody’s comin to the barbecue!

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 23Time: 1:09 Halloween Parade

Black cats, here they come!Black cats, one by one.Leaping, howling, having fun.Black cats, here they come!

Skeletons dancing, here they come!Skeletons dancing, one by one.Shaking, rattling, having fun.Skeletons dancing, here they come!

Witches flying, here they come!Witches flying, one by one,Witches on broomsticks, having fun.Witches flying, here they come!

Spiders crawling, here they come!Spiders crawling, one by one.Creeping, crawling, having fun.Spiders crawling, here they come!

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Beginner Jazz Chant Track 24Time: :45 Today’s Thanksgiving Day!

Today’s Thanksgiving Day!Today’s Thanksgiving Day!The turkey’s in the oven.The table’s set.Today’s Thanksgiving Day!

The peas and the carrots are ready.The cranberry sauce is here.The pumpkin pies look wonderful!Today’s Thanksgiving Day!

Is the turkey ready?No, not yet.

Is the turkey ready?No, not yet.

The turkey’s ready.Here it comes!Today’s Thanksgiving Day! Hooray!

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 25Time: 1:10 Christmas Colors, Christmas Sounds

Bright red, dark green.These are the colors of Christmas.Red stockings, green trees.These are the colors of Christmas.

Gold ribbon, silver bells,Colored lights on the Christmas tree.Silver, gold, red, and green.These are the colors of Christmas.

Bells ringing, children singing.

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These are the sounds of Christmas.Children playing, Santa laughing.These are the sounds of Christmas.

Bells ringing, children singing.Santa laughing, children playing.Ringing, singing, laughing, playing.These are the sounds of Christmas.

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 26Time: :32 Things that Are Green

The trees are green. The grass is green.My clothes are green. My nose is green.

Your chair is green. Your hair is green.Everything’s green on March seventeen!

His hat is green. Her cat is green.His plants are green. Her pants are green.

Our house is green. Their mouse is green.Everything’s green on March seventeen!Advanced Interview and Songs

Billie Holiday Possible Topics: Jazz/Blues (its roots in slavery, parent of Hip Hop/Rap), New York City (Central Park, the Ritz, slums), Jazz Instruments, Racial Tension/Lynching/Jim Crowe Laws/Segregation, Radio Broadcasting Grammar: Point of View, storytelling, etc. (People, Life in Community, Country Studies, Jobs)

Time: 1:04 Track 27Live Radio Broadcast:

“Billie Holliday is one of a handful of really great jazz singers. Her blues are poetic, highly intense. Playing with her here today are some of the musicians who accompanied her back in the ‘30s in some of the greatest jazz records ever made. Among the musicians, Roy Aldridge and Doc Cheetum on trumpets, Colman Hockings, Lester Young and Ben, Ben Webster on saxophone. Dick Dickinson on trombone, Jerry Mulligan on baritone sax, Mal Waldern at the piano. Milt Hinton, Hinton on base, Danny Barker on guitar, and O.C. Johnson on the drums. Billy Holliday,” the announcer said.An aged sounding Billie Holliday:

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“The blues to me is like being very sad, very sick, going to church, being very happy. There’s two kinds of blues: there’s happy blues and there’s sad blues. I don’t think I ever sing the same way twice, and I don’t think I ever sing the same tempo; one night’s a little bit slower, and the next night’s a little bit brighter, ‘scause how I feel. I don’t know, the blues is sort of a mixed up thing, you just have to feel it. Anything I, I do sing it’s part of my life.”

Advanced Song Track 28Time: 2:37“Me, Myself, and I”

Me, Myself, and IAre all in love with youWe all think you’re wonderfulWe do

Me, Myself, and IHave just one point of viewWe’re convinced there’s no one else Like you

It can’t be denied, dearYou brought the sun to usWe’d be satisfied, dearIf you’d belong to one of us

So, if you pass me byThree hearts will break in twoBecause me, myself, and I

Are all in love with you <<Clarinet, trumpet, trombone, piano - music solo >>Me, Myself, and IAre all in love with youWe all think you’re wonderfulWe do

Me, Myself, and IHave just one point of viewWe’re convinced there’s no one else Like you

It can’t be denied, dearYou brought the sun to usWe’d be satisfied, dearIf you’d belong to one of us

So, if you pass me byThree hearts will break in twoBecause me, myself, and IAre all in love with you

Advanced Song Track 29Time: 3:13“Strange Fruit”

Southern treesBare a strange fruitBlood on the leavesAnd blood at the roots

Black bodies swinging In the southern breezeStrange fruit hanging

From the poplar trees

Pastoral sceneOf the gallant SouthThe bulging eyes And the twisted mouth

Scent of magnoliaSweet and freshThen the sudden smell ofBurning flesh

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Here is a fruit For the crows to pluckFor the rain to gatherFor the wind to suckFor the sun to rotFor the tree to drop

Here is a strange And bitter crop

*Graphic material meant only for advanced, mature students

Advanced Song Track 30Time: 3:43“Autumn in New York”

Autumn in New YorkWhy does it seem so inviting?Autumn in New YorkIt smells the thrill of first nighting

Glittering crowds And shimmering cloudsAnd canyons of steel

They’re making me feelI’m home

It’s autumn in New YorkThat brings the promise of new loveAutumn in New YorkIs often mingled with pain

Dreamers with empty handsMy sigh for exotic landsIt’s autumn in New YorkIt’s good to live it again

Autumn in New YorkThe gleaming rooftops at sundownAutumn in New YorkIt lifts you up when you’re down

Jane Ruway and Gady VocetWho lunch at the RitzWill tell you that it’s Divine!

There’s autumn in New YorkTransforms the slums into MayfairAutumn in New YorkYou’ll need no castle in Spain

Lovers that bless the darkOn benches in Central ParkGreet autumn in New YorkIt’s good to live it,Again!

Nature and the World

Beginner Poetry Track 31Time: :38 “Mr. Grumpledump's Song” by Shel Silverstein

Everything's wrong, Days are too long,Sunshine's too hot, Wind is too strong.Clouds are too fluffy, Grass is too green,Ground is too dusty, Sheets are too clean.

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Stars are too twinkly, Moon is too high,Water's too drippy, Sand is too dry.Rocks are too heavy, Feathers too light,Kids are too noisy, Shoes are too tight.Folks are too happy, Singin' their songs.Why can't they see it? Everything's wrong!

Beginner Poetry Track 32Time: :26 “Body Language” by Shel Silverstein

Said my feet, “Hey lets go dancing.”Said my tongue, “Lets have a snack.”Said my brain, “Lets read a good book.”Said my eyes, “Lets take a nap.”Said my legs, “Lets just go walking.”Said my back, “Lets take a ride.”Said my seat, “Well I’ll just sit right here, till all of you decide.”

Beginner Poetry Track 33Time: :40 “Rain” by Shel Silverstein

I opened my eyesAnd looked up at the rain,And it dripped in my headAnd flowed into my brain, And all that I hear as I lie in my bedIs the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.I step very softly,I walk very slowly,I can’t do a handstand-I might overflow,So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said-I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.

Advanced Poetry Track 34Time: 1:50 “To Autumn” by John Keats

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

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With a sweet kernel’ to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fumes of poppies, while thy hookSpares the next swath and all it twined flower; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with a patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mournAmong the river sallows, borne aloftOr sinking as the light wind lives or dies;And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Keats, John. “To Autumn” from Complete Poems and Selected Letters of John Keats. New York: The Modern Library, 2001. 249-250.

Advanced Poetry Track 35Time: 1:33“Ode to An Artichoke” by Pablo Neruda

The tender-hearted artichoke got dressed as a warrior, erect, built

a little cupola, stood impermeable under its scales, around it the crazy vegetables bristled, grew astonishing tendrils, cattails, bulbs, in the subsoil slept the carrot with its red whiskers, the grapevine

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dried the runners through which it carries the wine, the cabbage devoted itself to trying on skirts oregano to perfuming the world and the gentle artichoke stood there in the garden, dressed as a warrior, burnished like a pomegranate, proud, and one day along with the others in large willow baskets, it traveled to the market to realize its dream: the army. Amid the rows never was it so military as at the fair, men among the vegetables with their white shirts were marshals of the artichokes, the tight ranks, the voices of command, and the detonation of a falling crate, but then comes Maria with her basket, picks an artichoke, isn’t afraid of it, examines it, holds itto the light as if it were an egg, buys it, mixes it up

in her bag with a pair of shoes, with a head of cabbage and a bottle of vinegar until entering the kitchen she submerges it in a pot. Thus ends in peace the career of the armored vegetable which is called artichoke, then scale by scale we undress its delight and we eat the peaceful flesh of its green heart.Neruda, Pablo. “Ode to the Artichoke” from Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon. Trs. Stephen Mitchell. New York: HarperPerennial, 1997. 9-13

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People

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 36Time: :38 Native American Chant

Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.

Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.

Kikapoo, Mohawk,Kikapoo, Mohawk.

Kikapoo, Mohawk,Kikapoo, Mohawk.

Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.Mohawk, Navaho, Cherokee, Sioux.

Beginner Poetry Track 37Time: :22 “No Difference” by Shel Silverstein

Small as a peanut, Big as a giantWe’re all the same size, When we turn off the light

Red, black or orange, Yellow or whiteWe all look the same, When we turn off the light

So maybe the way to make everything rightIs For God to just reach out and turn off the light

Beginner Text Track 38Time 1:23 Roald Dahl

Roald Dahl is a famous British author best known for his children’s books; James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, The BFG, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Dahl was born on September 13th, 1916. His early life was very difficult, when he was only three years old his sister died, and only a few months later his father also died. He attended boarding school where he was shocked by the cruelty of the teachers to the students. When he was twenty-three years old he joined the British Royal Air Force, where he was badly injured in a crash landing. His first writings were about his experiences in the military, but when he had children of his own he started making up bedtime stories for them. He found that his children loved them, and that he loved creating them. From then on he wrote and published many children’s stories. These are filled with outrageous characters and there is always a small child who must overcome the cruelties, and terrors of the adult world around him or her. His stories are

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always hilarious and imaginative, so much so that many have been made into movies. Dahl died on November 23rd 1990.Comprehension Questions:

1. When was Dahl born?2. What happened when Dahl was three years old?3. Name one of Dahl’s famous books.4. What happened to Dahl when he joined the British Royal Air Force?5. When did he begin writing his children’s stories?

Advanced Text Track 39Time: 2:04 Benjamin Franklin

Benjamin Franklin was born on January 17th 1706 in Boston, Massachusetts. He went to school until he was ten years old, and when he was 12 years old he worked for his brother in the printing business. When he turned 17 Franklin moved to Philadelphia where he published a weekly newspaper called the Pennsylvania Gazette and Poor Richard’s, an almanac. The almanac was a calendar and weather forecast for the year. It contained amusing stories, jokes, and proverbs. Franklin published the famous proverb, “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

Franklin started many public services in Philadelphia like the first volunteer fire company, a hospital, a debate club, and the first library in America. Benjamin Franklin was also an inventor. One of his first inventions was a set of paddles to help him swim faster, and others include bifocals, the Franklin stove, and most notably the lightning rod, which was a result of his experiments with electricity. Franklin was also a great statesman. In 1764 he went to England and while there he helped to represent the thirteen colonies in Parliament. Later he went to France to ask for help in the American Revolution, and then he was sent back to England to negotiate a peace treaty. Franklin helped to write the “Declaration of Independence” and the “Articles of Confederation,” the first constitution of the United States. Benjamin Franklin died at the age of 84 on April 17th, 1790, and an impressive public funeral was held by the city.

Vocabularyo Printing Business- Company that prints books, newspapers, or magazineso Bifocals- Glasses or Spectacleso Lightning Rod- A metal rod attached to the highest point of a building to

protect it from lightningo Statesman- A politician who plays an important role in government and

who is widely respected for integrity and impartial concern for the public good

o American Revolution- The war in which the American colonies won independence from Great Britain (1775-1783)

o Declaration of Independence- The document stating that the 13 American colonies would govern themselves (1776)

o Articles of Confederation- The first constitution (the document that states the basic laws or principles by which a country is governed) written by the United States (1776)

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Advanced Text Track 40Time: 3:01 Martin Luther King Junior

Martin Luther King Jr. was born in Atlanta Georgia, on January 15th, 1929. King encountered racism, a bad opinion or feeling of hostility against people of different races, at a very early age when the parents of two of his friends who were white, ended the friendship because he was black. When he was eleven a white woman hit him and called him “nigger” which is a derogatory word referring to African Americans as slaves. That is why this is a bad word in the United States. Racism was a very large problem in the United States at this time. African Americans were not allowed to eat in certain places, go to school with white children, live in certain places, or enjoy the same freedoms that white people had. The Constitution of the United States ensures freedom for all people, but laws were in place which segregated people of different races from white people. Racism and segregation were what Martin Luther King Jr. wanted to change.

In order to bring about this change King led non-violent protests and boycotts. For one year he and his supporters refused to ride the buses because they were not allowed to sit where they wanted. He also led strikes and sit-ins, where people would stay in a restaurant where only white people were allowed until policy was changed. For these demonstrations King was put in jail many times, and threatened by people who did not agree with his beliefs.

Martin Luther King Jr. was a leader of change, because of his work a law was passed in 1964 that outlawed segregation in public places and guaranteed equal voting rights for people of all different colors, religions, or nationalities. Because he always advocated peaceful demonstrations King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964, the youngest person ever to receive it. On April 4th 1968 King was assassinated. The entire country was shocked, and dismayed. He was buried in Atlanta, Georgia under a monument with the final words from his most famous speech on it, “Free at last, free at last thank God Almighty I’m free at last.” Today children study his life in every school in America, and on the third Monday of every January there is a national holiday to celebrate his life.

Vocabularyo Racism- a bad opinion or feeling of hostility against people of

different raceso Nigger-a bad word in the United States referring to African

Americans as slaves o Slavery- a system based on the enforced labor of other people, in

place in the United States until the Civil War was fought in 1861-1865 between the North and the South, after which the slaves were freed

o Segregation- the practice of keeping people apart who are different from each other, especially by enforcing the use of separate schools, transportation, housing and other places

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o Boycott- to refuse to deal with an organization or company as a protest against it

o Sit-in- a form of protest in which people stay in a place and refuse to leave until their demands have been met

o Assassinate- to kill somebody by a sudden violent attack

Life in the Community

Beginner Jazz Chant Track 41Time: :38 New Year’s Resolutions

I promise to be very, very good.I promise to do the things I should.I promise to make my bed each day.I promise to put my things away.I promise not to throw my socks on the floor.I promise to put my socks in the drawer.I promise to do my homework right.I promise not to stay up late at night.I promise to listen to my mom and dad.I promise not to do anything bad.

Beginner Poetry Track 42Time: :26 “Listen to the Mustn’ts” by Shel Silverstein

Listen to mustn’ts child, listen to the don’ts.Listen to the shouldn’ts the impossibles’, the won’tsListen to the never haves. Then listen close to me,Anything can happen child, anything can be.

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Intermediate Poetry Track 43Time: 2:26 “Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage

Out” by Shel SilversteinSarah Cynthia Sylvia StoutWould not take the garbage out!She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,Candy the yams and spice the hams, And though her daddy would scream and shout,She simply would not take the garbage out.And so it piled up to the ceilings:Coffee grounds, potato peelings,Brown Bananas, rotten peas,Chunks of sour cottage cheese.It filled the can, it covered the floor, It cracked the window and blocked the doorWith bacon rinds and chicken bones,Drippy ends of ice cream cones,Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,Pizza crusts and withered greens,Soggy beans and tangerines,Crusts of black burned buttered toast,Grisly bits of beefy roasts...The garbage rolled down the hall,It raised the roof, it broke the wall...Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,Globs of gooey bubble gum,Cellophane from green baloney,Rubbery blubbery macaroni,Peanut butter, caked and dry,Curdled milk and crusts of pie,Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,Cold French fries and rancid meat,Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.At last the garbage reached so highThat finally it touched the sky.And all the neighbors moved away,And none of her friends would come to play.And finally Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout said,"Ok, I'll take the garbage out!"But then, of course, it was too late...The garbage reached across the state,From New York to the Golden Gate.And there, in the garbage she did hate,

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Poor Sarah met an awful fate,That I cannot right now relateBecause the hour is much too late.But children, remember Sarah StoutAnd always take the garbage out!

Beginner Text Track 44Time: 3:14 The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves. . . and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade. And the boy loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy.

But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, “Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.” “I am too big to climb and play,” said the boy. “I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?” “I’m sorry,” said the tree, “but I have no money. I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, Boy and sell them in the city. Then you will have money and you will be happy.”

And so the boy climbed up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away. And the tree was happy. But the boy stayed away for a long time and the tree was sad. And then one day the boy came back and three shook with joy and said, “Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and be happy.” “I am too busy to climb trees,” said the boy. “I want a house to keep me warm,” he said. “I want a wife and I want children, and so I need a house. Can you give me a house?” “I have no house,” said the tree. “The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy.”

And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house. And the tree was happy. But the boy stayed away for a long time. And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak. “Come, Boy” she whispered, “come and play.” “I am too old and sad to play,” said the boy. I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?” “Cut down my trunk and make a boat,” said the tree. “Then you can sail away and be happy.”

And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away. And the tree was happy but not really. And after a long time, the boy came back again. “I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree, “but I have nothing left to give you-my apples are gone.” “My teeth are too weak for apples,” said the boy. “My branches are gone,” said the tree. “You cannot swing on them.” “I am too tired to climb,” said the boy. “My trunk is gone,” sighed the tree. “I wish that I could give you something but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I am sorry. . .” “I don’t need very much now,” said the boy, “just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very

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tired.” “Well,” said the tree, straightening herself-up as much as she could, “well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.” And the boy did. And the tree was happy.

The End