<p>The rhymes of Mother Goose have become so ingrained into our consciousness that many of us, even in our adult years, can recite them by heart. Mother Goose rhymes, in a variety of languages, have become almost legendary to our civilization. That said, the author of this collection hopes there is ample space on nursery bookshelves for a smattering of rhymes of a contemporary nonsense and amateurish philosophy. He has elected to call himself Poppa Gander, a name that came to him out of oblivion and that, in one brief, rewarding instant the muse, Erato, was gracious enough to bless him.</p>

<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Because the author is a denizen of today, his rhymes have more to do with the urban environment than with the rural. But the yet-unpolluted minds of children whether city or country bred are a fertile soil for the planting of wonderment, fantasy, and a healthy portion of sillyness and nonsense. No man-made vehicle can ever travel so far, or move so swiftly as does the imagination of a child.</p>