 Robinson Crusoe Story by Charles E. Carroll Red for Levervox by Anne Robinson Crusoe Story The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly days he carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern and a rocky-to-hook oven, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do and be cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating laden, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot's gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths rooting off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I bore them and I tanned them, till I got the fine Marocca suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion, with a few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel, bits of moths and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study for the gut is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their colours, and particular in turning out their toes. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The night was thick and hazy, when the Piccadilly daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews. But I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry. For I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot-gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the hair. And I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them, and I tanned them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungleberry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. This recording is in the public domain. Robinson's Crizzle Story by Charles E. Carroll, read for LibriVox.org by Edie Berlin, Germany. Robinson's Crizzle Story The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore. But I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spend no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hen and making stews, but I have that fellow friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a sunny polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toaster lizards, prickly pears and parrot gizzards, and I am rarely found of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the mouth who were eating off the hair, and I had to scrap and sound them and bold them and tell them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with a few domestic animals, you see, and we take along a carrot as a refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel, bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimen of stone, and we carry home as prizes, funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we'll remain at home and study, for the goat is a very clever at some, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies on a mental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention, as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their colors, and particular in turning out their toes, and of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Robinson Caruso's Story by Charles E. Carroll, read for LibriVox.org by David Fetterman. The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oat was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a little Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the other things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot-gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and hand them till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion, with a few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home in study, for the goat is very clever at some, and the dog instead of fighting studies ornamental writing while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. The Night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oat was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews. But I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears and parrot-gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and tanned them, until I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle-berry tea. Then we gather, as we travel, bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention, as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Robinson Crusoe Story by Charles E. Carroll, read for LibriVox.org by Esther. Robinson Crusoe Story The night was thick and hazy, when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned him, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely, when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday, just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears and parrot gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle-pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry, when I found the maws were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and I tanned them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion, in a family excursion, with the few domestic animals you see. And we take along a carrot, as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle-berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention, as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. And of poem this recording is in the public domain. Robinson Crusoe Story by Charles E. Carroll, read for LibreVox.org by Iswa, in Belgium, in September 2008. Robinson Crusoe Story. The night was thick and hazy, when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea. And I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore. But I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews. But I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot guzzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating of the hair. And I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them, and I tanned them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with a few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as a refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle bear tea. Then we gather, as we travel, bits of moss and dotty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes, funny bags of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific turn. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at the sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention, as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their colors, and particular in turning out their toes. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. And I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oat was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating larden, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizard, prickly pears, and parrot gizzard, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the months were eating of the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and tanned them till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at his sum, and the dog instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their colors, and particular in turning out their toes, and of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Robinson Crusoe Story by Charles E. Carroll, read for LibriVox.org by Christian Hughes. The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oat was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore. But I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews. But I had that fellow Friday, just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the hair. And I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and I tanned them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion, with the few domestic animals you see. And we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle-berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. Robinson Crusoe Story by Charles E. Carroll Read for LibraVox.org by Liz Taylor Robinson Crusoe Story The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, twist very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears and parrot-gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the maws were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them, and I tanned them till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot and a little can of jungle-berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close. To the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars and particular in turning out their toes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and I tanned them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes funny bugs of handy sizes just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars in particular in turning out their toes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Robinson Crusoe's Story by Charles E. Carroll Read for LibriVox.org by Ruth Golding Robinson Crusoe's Story The night was thick and easy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never, never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely when I found myself the only population on this cult evaded shore. But I've made a little cabin in a rocky little cabin, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do me cooking, as I'm quite a clever and at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beet or pie. The cloves I add were furry, and it made me fret and worry when I found the moths were eating off the air, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I boiled them and I tanned them till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with the few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes, funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, we remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their colours, and particular in turning out their toes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Robinson Crusoe's Story by Charles E. Carroll read for LibriVox.org by Secrets. Robinson Crusoe's Story The night was thick and hazy when the Piccadilly Daisy carried down the crew and captain in the sea, and I think the water drowned them, for they never never found them, and I know they didn't come ashore with me. Oh, it was very sad and lonely, when I found myself the only population on this cultivated shore, but I've made a little tavern in a rocky little cavern, and I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking for a girl to do my cooking, as I'm quite a clever hand at making stews, but I had that fellow Friday just to keep the tavern tidy, and to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden that I'm cultivating lard in, as the things I eat are rather tough and dry, for I live on toasted lizards, prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, and I'm really very fond of beetle pie. The clothes I had were fairy, and it made me fret and worry, when I found the moths were eating off the hair, and I had to scrape and sand them, and I bow them and attend them, till I got the fine Morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion in a family excursion with a few domestic animals you see, and we take along a carrot as a refreshment for the parrot, and a little can of jungle berry tea. Then we gather as we travel bits of moss and dirty gravel, and we chip off little specimens of stone, and we carry home as prizes, funny bugs of handy sizes, just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, remain at home and study, for the goat is very clever at a sum, and the dog, instead of fighting, studies ornamental writing, while the cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, and we rise again at seven, and I wish to call attention, as I close, to the fact that all the scholars are correct about their collars, and particular in turning out their toes. End of part