The Apple Tree

Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,

Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,

So juicy, so mellow, and red;

And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,

To children or any who pass'd by his door,

To buy him a morsel of bread.

Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see,

With longing eye viewing this fine apple-tree,

And wishing a codlin might fall:

One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,

He began thinking whether he might not take one,

And then he look'd over the wall.

And as he again cast his eye on the tree,

He said to himself, "Oh, how nice they would be,

So cool and refreshing to-day!

The tree is so full, and one only I'll take,

And John cannot see if I give it a shake,

And nobody is in the way.

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,

Remember, though John cannot see you just now,

And no one to chide you is nigh,

There is One, who by night, just as well as by day,

Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,

From his glorious throne in the sky.

O then little boy, come away from the tree,

Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:

'Twere better to starve than to steal;

For the great GOD, who even through darkness can look,

Writes down every crime we commit, in His book;

Nor forgets what we try to conceal.

Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,

Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,

So juicy, so mellow, and red;

And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,

To children or any who pass'd by his door,

To buy him a morsel of bread.

Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see,

With longing eye viewing this fine apple-tree,

And wishing a codlin might fall:

One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,

He began thinking whether he might not take one,

And then he look'd over the wall.

And as he again cast his eye on the tree,

He said to himself, "Oh, how nice they would be,

So cool and refreshing to-day!

The tree is so full, and one only I'll take,

And John cannot see if I give it a shake,

And nobody is in the way.

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,

Remember, though John cannot see you just now,

And no one to chide you is nigh,

There is One, who by night, just as well as by day,

Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,

From his glorious throne in the sky.

O then little boy, come away from the tree,

Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:

'Twere better to starve than to steal;

For the great GOD, who even through darkness can look,

Writes down every crime we commit, in His book;

Nor forgets what we try to conceal.

Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,
Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,
So juicy, so mellow, and red;
And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,
To children or any who pass'd by his door,
To buy him a morsel of bread.

Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see,
With longing eye viewing this fine apple-tree,
And wishing a codlin might fall:
One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,
He began thinking whether he might not take one,
And then he look'd over the wall.

And as he again cast his eye on the tree,
He said to himself, "Oh, how nice they would be,
So cool and refreshing to-day!
The tree is so full, and one only I'll take,
And John cannot see if I give it a shake,
And nobody is in the way.

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,
Remember, though John cannot see you just now,
And no one to chide you is nigh,
There is One, who by night, just as well as by day,
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,
From his glorious throne in the sky.

O then little boy, come away from the tree,
Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:
'Twere better to starve than to steal;
For the great GOD, who even through darkness can look,
Writes down every crime we commit, in His book;
Nor forgets what we try to conceal.

Jane Tylor

Imagine setting a simple challenge to almost anyone in the English speaking world regarding fondly remembered poems and songs from their childhood. Ask them to recite the opening lines of the first poem or song that comes to mind and there is a good chance that the majority would say: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are”. It’s one of those little ditties that has been popular worldwide since the 19th century but it is very likely that most would not be able to state who wrote it. Well, the answer is that the English poet and novelist Jane Taylor wrote those famous words. Her poem was set to music, using an old French tune, and the legend was born! Jane was born in September 1783, in London, but she spent her early years living in the small Suffolk town of Lavenham. She had an older sister called Ann, and the pair loved to write poetry and stories together. Their parents gave the girls plenty of encouragement to write and their mother was, herself, responsible for the publication of seven books giving religious and moral advice. Their father was a dissenting minister and engraver.

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