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Story Poems for Children
By Josie Whitehead
Whilst Hetta was a little hen,
Dillon was a duck.
Dillan shouted: ‘Quack quack quack,’
Whilst Hetta just said: ‘Cluck’.
Both of them were friends, of course,
And played out in the sun.
Then Mum Duck said: ‘It’s nice today:
Oh come on, let’s have fun!’
‘Let’s teach young Hetta how to swim.
It’s easy, come and see,’
And Dillon said: ‘It’s easy, yes!
You come along with me.’
But Hetta said: ‘Oh hens don’t swim
And neither do they fly.
My Mummy said I mustn’t swim
And shouldn’t even try.’
Then Dillon said: ‘What do hens do?’
And Hetta said: ‘Lay eggs,'
And, scratching round, she looked across
And glanced at Dillon’s legs!
She then looked down at Dillon’s feet:
‘They’re not at all like mine!’
‘Webbed feet are special feet,’ he said,
‘And ducks just think they’re fine.’
'Our good webbed feet help us to swim
On rivers, lakes or streams,
But Hetta, you, without webbed feet,
Would find that hard, it seems.’
‘We’ve special feathers in our wings,
Which help we ducks to fly,’
And whilst you hens must stay on earth,
Ducks fly across the sky.’
So Hetta Hen learnt many things
Upon that summer’s day,
On leaving, Dillon called: ‘Quack quack’ –
And what did Hetta say?
Cluck, Cluck I expect.
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