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  1. 1810 - 1872. William Miller. POEMS. William Miller was born in Briggate, Glasgow, in August 1810. He served an apprenticeship to a wood-turner, and became a skilled cabinet-maker, a trade which he followed for the rest of his life. He began to write poetry while still a youth, contributing to local newspapers and periodicals; the appearance of ...

  2. Aug 22, 2019 · Willie Winkie first appeared in book in Whistle Binkie, Stories for the Fireside, a collection of new Scottish lyrics, in 1841. Read More When they tried to ban the raucous Glasgow Fair

    • Alison Campsie
  3. William Miller (August 1810 – 20 August 1872) was a Scottish poet best known for the nursery rhyme Wee Willie Winkie. [1][2][3] Miller, known as "The Laureate of the Nursery", was born in Glasgow and lived in Dennistoun, Scotland. He suffered from ill health and was unable to become a surgeon and instead took up woodturning and cabinet making.

  4. Trained as a cabinetmaker, he began writing poetry as a young man. Miller placed many of his poems, written in Scots, in local newspapers and journals. Known as the “Laureate of the Nursery,” Miller is most famous as the author of “Willie Winkie,” which appeared in the nursery rhyme collection Whistle-binkie: Stories for the Fireside ...

  5. Miller never managed to make a career solely as a poet and continued to work as a cabinet-maker and wood-turner for most of his life. He died of Spinal Paralysis on the 20th of August, 1872 at 21 Windsor Street, Glasgow and was buried in the family plot in Tollcross Cemetery in an unmarked grave near the main entrance.

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  6. Aug 4, 2005 · Willie Winkie. “Wee Willie Winkie,” by William Miller (1810-72), is included in this volume out of respect to an eight-year-old child who chose it from among hundreds. We had one poetry hour every week, and he studied and recited it with unabated interest to the end of the year.

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  8. The cat’s singing grey thrums. To the sleeping hen, The dog’s spelder’d on the floor, And disna gie a cheep, But here’s a waukrife laddie. That winna fa’ asleep.”. Onything but sleep, you rogue! Glow’ring like the moon, Rattling in an airn jug.

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