About: Willie Winkie

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An Entity of Type : dbkwik:resource/xoykDFxJFBgF02W_HRnEzw==, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

"Wee Willie Winkie" is a Scottish nursery rhyme, whose titular figure has become popular the world over as a personification of sleep. The poem, written by William Miller and titled "Willie Winkie", was first published in Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside in 1841. The original text of 1841 was written in Scots and is below: Versions paraphrased for English-language readers began to appear in print from 1844 in the form:

Attributes	Values
rdf:type	dbkwik:resource/xoykDFxJFBgF02W_HRnEzw==
rdfs:label	Willie Winkie
rdfs:comment	"Wee Willie Winkie" is a Scottish nursery rhyme, whose titular figure has become popular the world over as a personification of sleep. The poem, written by William Miller and titled "Willie Winkie", was first published in Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside in 1841. The original text of 1841 was written in Scots and is below: Versions paraphrased for English-language readers began to appear in print from 1844 in the form:
dcterms:subject	Protagonists DC Characters Non-Powered Characters Male Characters Dell Characters Comic Book Characters Juvenile Heroes Gilberton Characters British Characters Movie Characters Nursery Rhymes Personifications Animated Characters Television Characters EC Characters Babes in Toyland Characters Sleep Themed Characters Winkle Family Characters 1841 Debuts dbkwik:resource/UsU4SGw0JKd9e0jK4tLV_Q==
Row 1 info	Willie Winkie/Winkle
Row 2 info	Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside
Row 1 title	Real Name
Row 2 title	First Appearance
Row 3 info	William Miller
Row 3 title	Created by
Box Title	Wee Willie Winkie
dbkwik:pdsh/proper...iPageUsesTemplate	dbkwik:resource/fctTh5K36gm8FzP2Rs2fUw==
abstract	"Wee Willie Winkie" is a Scottish nursery rhyme, whose titular figure has become popular the world over as a personification of sleep. The poem, written by William Miller and titled "Willie Winkie", was first published in Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside in 1841. The original text of 1841 was written in Scots and is below: Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon, Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown, Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock, "Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?" "Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben? The cat's singin grey thrums to the sleepin hen, The dog's speldert on the floor and disna gie a cheep, But here's a waukrife laddie, that wunna fa' asleep." Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow'ring like the moon, Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon, Rumblin', tumblin' roon about, crawin' like a cock, Skirlin like a kenna-what, waukenin' sleepin' fock. "Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel, Wamblin' aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel, Ruggin' at the cat's lug and raveling a' her thrums- Hey Willie Winkie – see there he comes." Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean, A wee, stumpie, stousie, that canna rin his lane, That has a battle aye wi' sleep afore he'll close an e'e- But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me. Versions paraphrased for English-language readers began to appear in print from 1844 in the form: Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown, Tapping at the window, crying at the lock, Are the children in their bed, for it's past ten o'clock? Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in? The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen, The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep, But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep! Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,' Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon, Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock, Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk. Hey, Willie Winkie – the child's in a creel! Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel, Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums Hey, Willie Winkie – see, there he comes!" Weary is the mother who has a dusty child, A small short little child, who can't run on his own, Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me

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