The Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky.
He bites it, day by day,
Until there’s but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.
The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy
North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!
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This song has been in our family for 40 years. Passed onto children and grandchildren. Bedtime would not be complete without it. They sing it now around campfires with friends at 25. In our version the Baker is female. For years there was controversy over whether she bakes or makes cookies. For the last line we sing “That greedy North Wind — pause– he eats again” I will have to listen to the Burl Ives version, we may have changed the melody. Ours is haunting.
I remember hearing this in a song – I think Burl Ives sang it –
when I first read this poem, I thought back to more innocent times when there was more fantasy in the lives of children; the animation of inanimate objects like the moon, etc. I’m taking a chance on sending it to my granddaughter (13 yrs) as I believe that she will like it.