This is a collection of anonymous Filipino prose and poetry, strained from the recesses of memories. Recollecting them was hilarious and brought with it a joy in rediscovery and an appreciation of the innocence of those years, the absurd humor, the easy laughter.

Also, it recalls a time now gone, of a cultural life and the ability of its language to have fun at its own expense, with simple rhythms and nonsense of rhymes, a pinch of colonial flavor and a dash of western spice, but so Filipino. It brings back a childhood, long before television consumed all the idle moments. When toys were scarce or make-do with bottle-caps and tin cans. When children played hide-and-seek, piko, or patintero with great intent and delight. When language was a verbal playground, as words became toys and a rhyme made the game, sometimes devoid of content, but often with a fecundity of creativity at play.

Some were merely costumed poesy, rhymed without reason, but imaginative in preposterous brevity. Some are set into music, meant for acappelic renditions. Some require a declamatory delivery to exaggerate that quality of impertinence critical for eliciting that cackle, giggle, or blush.

Some are from my fathers's own memory polished from many years of countless recitations. Three from my father's trove: Ang Tatlong Magkakaibigan, Luneta, and Diyos Ako'y Matutulog - are the only serious verses in the collection. It was father who made it easy and fun to traverse in those uncertain years of forbidding new language of sex and sexuality. Of course, to mother's unending consternation.

Mi Ultimo Ubo is a late addition, an anonymous piece stumbled upon on the web. Like Bayang Magiliw, they define the Pinoy's comic, wicked, and irreverent culture.

And inevitably, things ephemeral fall prey to time. Half-remembered, half-forgotten, they recede farther back into memory. The games have changed and that particular art of prose and poetry is gone. This collection is for those who remember. For those who have forgotten. And for those too young to be familiar with these nonsensical rhymes, read them to a parent, uncle or aunt, or grandparent. The cobwebs of memory might untangle, and the prose and poetry of long ago might once again elicit a smile, laughter or halakhak. To appreciate, one more time, what may soon be lost forever.

And if one needs another reason, why this collection . . .?