one stormy NIGHT
By Josie Whitehead
The vicious wind – it roared and howled
And beat upon our door,
Whilst father went off to his bed
And soon we heard him snore.
The ceaseless rain, it poured and poured
And beat down on the pane.
Through the night both wind and rain
Continued yet again.
A farmer woke: he heard a noise
But blamed it on the weather.
Next day he went to feed his hens,
But discovered only feathers.
The hen-house door had blown away.
‘Oh blast this wind and rain!’ –
But when he sought to find his hens,
The reason was quite plain - - -
The wind and rain were not to blame
For the death of every one:
It was Mr Fox who, in the night,
Had enjoyed his night of fun.
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