As a parent of three children, I have spent nearly two decades reading children’s poetry. So I can say with some confidence that, by and large, the stuff is terrible. Marred by incompetent metre and bad rhymes (when it bothers to rhyme at all), most children’s poetry is disposable, written to fill the space next to an illustration. This is unfortunate. Children react to catchy rhythms, clapping their hands and stamping their feet even if they don’t yet understand the meaning of the words. A physical response to sound can ignite interest in poetry as an art form. It takes a special writer to understand that.
Cue Dennis Lee. In an effort to introduce “zing, bounce, vitality into traditional kids’ poetry,” Lee wrote Alligator Pie, a book of silly, joyful, charming nursery rhymes that is today a landmark of Canadian literature. Started when he wanted bedtime poems for his little girl but couldn’t think of any suitable ones, Alligator Pie has reportedly sold over half a million copies since its publication in 1974 and cemented Lee’s reputation as “Canada’s Father Goose.” Lee went on to write other popular kids’ books—indeed, he’s a prolific, celebrated former poet laureate of Toronto whose collections include the Governor General’s Literary Award–winning Civil Elegies. But Alligator Pie pulled off a feat realized by few authors: it has lasted. My father read it to me countless times at bedtime, and I bought my family copy shortly after my first child was born, a “collector’s edition” released in 2001 (alas, it is too tattered now to interest any collector).
