An offering from Dylan Thomas' A Child's Christmas in Wales today. I came upon an early printing of this book in a shop one Christmas and snatched it up tearfully after reading the first page. This tiny blue edition, with woodcuts by Ellen Raskin, is perfect for holding close, giving away. Hear Thomas read it here.
There were the Useful Presents: engulfing
mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made
for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like
silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to
the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like
patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies
and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking
tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to
the skin there were mustached and rasping vests
that made you wonder why the aunts had any
skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted
nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer
whinnying with us. And pictureless books in
which small boys, though warned with quotations
not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond
and did and drowned; and books that told me
everything about the wasp, except why.
1 maids a-milking:
That makes me nostalgic. We used to listen to it every year when I was growing up (we also have the book with illustrations).
That print is lovely.
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