Introduction  

Part 1 of this little (children’s) poem tells a true story.  It was years before I found my little golliwog. My husband and I were en route to Dingo Beach, north of Mackay in Northern Queensland, Australia, in 2004 when we dropped into a store on the main street in Mackay. There was the golliwog on a table full of sale items. He was so cute and just the right size to pack into our luggage along with the many other treasures that we found along the way and simply had to bring back home with us to Canada. 

Part 2 describes him. Whenever we have company, someone always picks him up, gives him a cuddle and says, “I love this little guy." 

Some have said “It’s not politically correct” but who cares? I do my own thing . . . 

I’m dedicating this poem to my dear friend, Regina S.. 

       MY  GOLLIWOG

          Part 1

When I was young

And growing up

My family was not rich.

The broken doll

I once owned

I threw into a ditch.

The train ran right over her

And flattened out her head.

We prayed to make her better

But accepted she was dead.

I badly wanted another toy

And promised I’d be good.

It took so long to find my boy,

I thought I never would.

I love my little golliwog

As you can plainly see.

He sits up in our living room

On the back of our settee. 

  GAIL  RUNSCHKE 

      MY  GOLLIWOG 

          Part 2 

With the widest grin

You’ve ever seen

Right across his face,

Of all the places he has been

He much prefers our place.

His hair sticks out

So you might doubt

That it was ever brushed

Although I take good care of him

Even when I’m rushed.

He looks so cuddly and warm

As if he’d do no harm.

A toy golliwog is not the norm

But he’s my lucky charm.

His sailor suit is royal blue

My favorite color, true.

His collar is as pure a white

As a seagull in broad sunlight.

When I buy a babe a gift

Through the heaps of toys I sift.

I often find a cuddly bear

But for that I couldn’t care.

Nor do I tend to choose a dog.

Instead I really hope to find

Another golliwog. 

GAIL RUNSCHKE