Here Comes Peter Cottontail - Easter Songs for Kids

Canciones para Niños en Inglés: Pascua, Semana santa - Songs for Children in English: Easter

Here Comes Peter Cottontail

Here comes Peter Cottontail
Hoppin’ down the bunny trail,
Hippity hoppity,
Easter’s on its way
Bringin’ ev’ry girl and boy
A basketful of Easter joy
Things to make your Easter
Bright and gay
He’s got jelly beans for Tommy
Colored eggs for sister Sue
There’s an orchid for your mommy
And an Easter bonnet too. Oh!
Here’ comes Peter Cottontail
Hoppin’ down the bunny trail
Hippity hoppity
Happy Easter Day
Look at him hop and listen to him say,
“Try to do the things you should”
Maybe if you’re extra good
He’ll roll lots of Easter eggs your way
You’ll wake up on Easter morning
And you’ll know that he was there
When you find those choc’late bunnies That he’s hiding ev’rywhere, Oh!
Here’ comes Peter Cottontail
Hoppin’ down the bunny trail
Hippity hoppity

Happy Easter Day.

Recursos en inglés para Pascua Semana Santa ⇓

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Easter Parade - Easter Songs for Kids

Canciones para Niños en Inglés: Pascua, Semana santa - Songs for Children in English: Easter

Easter Parade

In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
You’ll be the grandest lady in the Easter Parade.
I’ll be all in clover and when they look you over,
I’ll be the proudest fellow in the Easter Parade.
On the avenue, Fifth Avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And you’ll find that you’re in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet,
And of the girl, I’m taking to the Easter Parade.

Happy Easter Day.

Recursos en inglés para Pascua Semana Santa ⇓

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Recipe for pestiños with honey or sugar

Cooking recipes - How to pestiños?

Have you ever tasted pestiños? This Andalusian sweet, traditional at Easter and other important festivities, dates back to the 16th century, although its origin is probably much older.

Pestiños are usually eaten at Christmas or Easter. In Spain it is traditional to eat them along with other Easter sweets, such as torrijas, leche frita, the traditional Mona de Pascua, and other culinary delights.

How to make homemade pestiños with honey or sugar

Ingredients Andalusian pestiños (fritters):

• 1 glass (250 ml) extra virgin olive oil
• 1 glass (250 ml) of white wine
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 lemon peel
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• 750 g flour
• Extra virgin olive oil for frying
• Sugar for coating

Steps for making pestiños:

1. Put the glass of extra virgin olive oil in a frying pan with the cinnamon stick and the lemon peel.
2. Fry over a low heat to prevent the oil from burning.
3. Let the oil cool, remove the lemon peel and cinnamon stick and put the oil in a large bowl.
4. Add the glass of wine, the salt and a little flour and mix well.
5. We add the flour little by little, at the end we will have to continue kneading with our hands.
6. Knead for about five minutes until you obtain a very soft dough.
7. This dough is very easy to handle thanks to the oil, it does not stick at all.
8. Form small balls by hand, roll out very well with a rolling pin, it should be very thin.
9. Join two sides and press the two doughs together well, joining them again, this is very important as otherwise they will open when frying.
10. Fry in plenty of extra virgin olive oil until golden on both sides.
11. Remove and place on kitchen paper to absorb the excess oil.
12. Before they cool, coat them in sugar.

Andalusian pestiños with honey

Ingredients:

• 1/2 small glass of mild olive oil
• A dash of sweet wine
• A dash of sweet aniseed
• 1 tablespoon of aniseed
• 1 tablespoon of toasted sesame seeds
• 250 g wheat flour
• 150 g honey
• Water
• Lemon or orange peel

Preparation:

1. Put the lemon or orange zest in the oil and remove it when the oil starts to bubble. Then add the aniseed seeds. Turn off the heat and allow the oil to cool completely. Mix the oil with the sweet wine, sweet aniseed, sesame seeds, a pinch of salt and flour. Add the flour little by little, at the end you will have to continue kneading with your hands.
2. Knead for about five minutes until the dough is very smooth.
3. The dough needs to rest for half an hour. Form small balls by hand, roll out very well with a rolling pin, it should be very thin.
4. Join two sides and press the two doughs together well, this is important so that they do not open when frying. Fry in plenty of hot oil and remove on absorbent paper to absorb the excess oil. Prepare a syrup in a casserole with 150 g of honey and three spoonfuls of water, and once it starts to boil, turn off the heat. Dip the pestiños in this syrup, one at a time, using a spoon, and place on a tray. Leave for about two hours to cool completely.

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Recipe for Torrijas Traditional, baked and vegan

Cooking recipes - How to Torrijas?

Today we suggest you prepare the classic homemade torrijas at home so that the whole family can enjoy this very Spanish sweet. Your children can help to coat them in sugar and cinnamon. We are also going to see other torrijas recipes and also the recipe without eggs or milk.

Ingredients Torrijas of milk:

• One loaf of bread from the previous day, cut into slices of about 1.5 cm
• 4 eggs
• 1 litre of milk
• 1 cup of sugar
• A piece of lemon peel and a piece of orange peel.
• A stick of cinnamon stick
• A teaspoon of cinnamon powder
• Oil for frying: 3/4 litre.

Steps for making torrijas of milk:

1. In a saucepan, heat the milk with half the sugar, the orange and lemon peel and the cinnamon stick, stirring with a spoon to dilute the sugar.
2. Before it comes to the boil, remove from the heat and leave to stand for 10 minutes to allow the flavours to blend.
3. Then dip the slices of bread in the milk for about ten or twelve seconds.
4. Remove and set aside on a plate.
5. Heat the oil for frying.
6. While the oil is heating, beat the eggs.
7. Dip the slices of bread in the egg.
8. When the oil is hot, fry the torrijas.
9. When they are golden brown on both sides, remove them on absorbent paper.
10. Put them in a bowl where you can leave them to bathe in the milk, to which you have added the cinnamon powder and dissolved the rest of the sugar.
11. Keep in the fridge and consume preferably within three days.

** Instead of sugar and cinnamon you can sprinkle the torrijas with honey diluted with water.

And if you don't want to fry the torrijas... ⇓

How to make torrijas in the oven:

1. Preheat the oven on grill function at 250º C, with the rack in the middle.
2. Line a baking dish with baking paper.
3. Carefully place the torrijas in the baking dish after dipping them in the egg.
4. Bake for about 4-5 minutes, carefully turn them over and continue baking for a further 4 minutes.
5. The baking time is approximate, keep an eye on the torrijas, when you see them golden brown you can remove them from the oven.

Once the torrijas are baked, transfer them to a serving dish and sprinkle with a mixture of sugar and cinnamon. This would be the most traditional version, but we are going to tell you a trick that we are sure you will like so that your torrijas are very juicy, which is to substitute the sugar and cinnamon for a few spoonfuls of the infused milk from the beginning, sprinkling the torrijas lightly over the top. I assure you that you will love them.

• It is advisable to soak the torrijas while the milk is still hot, so that they hydrate better, but be careful because they can also break easily. Use a spatula to help you transfer them to the serving dish.
• You can prepare a syrup with 300 g of water and sugar to taste, let it boil until the sugar dissolves and you can flavour the syrup with a cinnamon stick while it boils. When you remove the torrijas from the oven, use a brush to dip them a little in the syrup. This step is important if you want them to be a little juicier, as they are a little drier than the traditional ones when they are baked and not fried.
• When you take them out you can also sprinkle them with a few spoonfuls of the infused milk mixture, you will see how delicious they are!
• Baked torrijas can be served with a nice bowl of hot chocolate or a cup of coffee.

Vegan torrijas without eggs and milk (easy baked recipe)

If someone in your family is vegan, or has an allergy or intolerance to eggs or milk, we also have a recipe especially for them. Check out the recipe for egg-free and dairy-free vegan torrijas.

Ingredients:

• 1 loaf of bread from the day before
• 1/2 litre almond milk or other vegetable milk
• peel of 2 lemons
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 1 teaspoon egg substitute
• 1/2 glass of water
• 150 g fructose
• Ground cinnamon
• Butter (to grease the baking tin)

How to make egg-free and dairy-free torrijas suitable for vegans

1. Grease a baking tray with butter.
2. Cut the bread into slices of about 1-2 cm.
3. Heat the almond milk, together with 50 g fructose, 1 cinnamon stick and the peel of 1 lemon, avoiding the white inner part because it is bitter.
4. When the almond milk is hot, soak the slices of bread (they should not be excessively soaked, so that they do not fall apart).
5. Put the egg substitute in a bowl with 2 tablespoons of water or vegetable milk, and dip the slices of bread in the mixture. If you prefer, they can also be coated in chickpea flour diluted in water.
6. Place the bread on the reserved tray and bake in a preheated oven at 170ºC for about 20 minutes until golden brown.
7. While they are in the oven, prepare a syrup as follows:
8. Heat a cup of water in a saucepan, together with 100 g of fructose, 1 cinnamon stick and the other lemon peel.
9. Cook until the syrup is formed.
10. When the torrijas have browned in the oven, take them out and pour the syrup bath over them.
11. Leave to soak well and sprinkle with ground cinnamon.

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Poems Of Shel Silverstein - Poemas en inglés

Recursos Educativos en Inglés - Poems in English - Poesías en inglés

Listen To The mustn'ts - Shel Silverstein

Listen to the mustn'ts, child,
Listen to the don'ts
Listen to the shouldn'ts
The impossibles, the wont's
Listen to the never haves
Then listen close to me-
Anything can happen, child,
anything can be

Hug O' War - Shel Silverstein

I will not play at tug o' war.
I'd rather play at hug o' war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins

Snowball - Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I'd keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first it wet the bed.

The Little Boy And Old Man - Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, sometimes I drop my spoon.
Said the little old man, I do that too.
The little boy whispered, I wet my pants.
I do too, laughed the old man.
Said the little boy, I often cry.
The old man nodded. So do I.
But worst of all, said the boy,
it seems grown-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.

Sick - 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 pox
And there’s one more--that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think 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 wrenched, 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 voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
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 today is... Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

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Poems Of Edgar Allan Poe - Poemas en inglés

Recursos Educativos en Inglés - Poems in English - Poesías en inglés

The Bells - Edgar Allan Poe

I

Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people -ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells,
Of the bells -
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

A Valentine - Edgar Allan Poe

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet's, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

A Dream Within A Dream - Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;--
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door;--
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never--nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!

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