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These are just two samples :

The Curious Chicken


Chickens! They are curious things

They cannot fly but do have wings

At night they lay their wholesome eggs

And hide away their spindly legs


The rooster has a crown of red

That reaches right across his head

In early morning he crows aloud

Showing all he’s very proud


He struts and strolls his way around

Calling out this high pitched sound

No matter how cries his words

He’s loved by all those crazy birds


As the sun comes up from the coup they arise

Each of them seeking the new days surprise

What  luxury they seek in the morn?

Why of course it’s their breakfast - the bright golden corn


The rooster inspects his ladies of brown

Wishes and hoping they don’t go to town

For that would be the end of their tale

They’d be taken to market and put in the sale


Their heads are bobbing up and down

Picking the corn from off the ground

With their bottoms in the air

They feed away care.


Oh no! Here they come… those noisy ducks

Giving the chickens their favourite looks

The one which appears to be rude

It really means were looking for food.


A scurry and flurry of feathers and clucks

The fight is on - its hens verses ducks

The rooster sits by and watches the brood

For fighting today he’s not in the mood


Finally the hens they won the day

The ducks all are hen pecked and waddling away

The ground is cover with feathers of white

The rooster is proud that his hens won the fight


The sun is now high and all has gone calm

Down on this rural and backwater farm

The hens settle down amidst dirt and dust

With their plumage of brown-the colour of rust


The rooster yelled from deep in his throat

‘Look out my ladies here comes the goat!’

Arthur never used to stop or wait

He just ate and ate and ate


Percy the cat thought that he was dreaming

As past he nose the hens ran screaming

The rooster decided he’d stop Arthurs rampage

So he flew at Arthur in a rage


The hens  watched their hero with great surprise

They couldn’t quite believe their eyes

The rooster was high on Arthur’s neck

Then gave the goat an almighty peck


To keep himself from further harm

Arthur ran across the farm

Past the barn and then pig sty

The rooster fell off when he tried to fly


In the far corner was a small brown donkey

Known by his knick name of ‘WONKY DONKEY’

For he only had three legs and one made of wood

So to win any prizes he won’t be good


He laughed and wobbled at the roosters plight

Roosters don’t fly try as hard they might

He finally rolled over flat on the floor

Still laughing aloud-‘ Hee Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Haw!’


Once again things then went incredibly calm

Down on this rural and backwater farm

The rest of the day went quietly by

Despite the roosters attempt to fly


At the end of the day in a steady flow

Into the coup… the hens they did go

At night they’d lay their wholesome eggs

And hide away their spindly legs


The Driving lesson


Maureen was a large black crow bigger than most by far

Whose lifelong burning ambition was to learn to drive a car

Seasons passed and on the roadside verge she strutted and she dined

Draught from the traffic ruffled her feathers but she didn’t really mind


She brushed her plumage and preened herself to look her very best

Went to meet the driving instructor who appeared from the door in an old string vest

 The schools was run by two cousins a weasel and an stoat

The sign that hung above the door said’ Best town to get you around just ask us for a quote’


The car wasn’t really very new in fact it was quite old

In came in an unusual colour though Orange Pink and Gold.

No lights, a dented door and tyres without a tred

‘Learn to Drive in our classic cars’ That’s what the advert read


Maureen stood beside the car aghast and said ‘What’s the make? What brand?’

‘It’s a wired up patchet reversible’said the stoat but Maureen didn’t understand

She prised open the door and stepped inside and so did Mr Stoat

‘Now relax, and get ready my pet’ said he after clearing out his throat


Starting the engine looking straight ahead with hands firmly on the wheel

A large bang and a cloud of smoke the car shot across the field

‘Mind that tree! Mind that rock! Mind that fence my dear!’

Most stoats heads are cover in white fur but his was white with fear


The door flew open out stoat fell and landed in the clover

The car had hit another bump, then Maureens car rolled over

A smell drift throughout the car what smell she thought was that

She’d fallen out the drivers side and  into a large cow pat


When Maureen arrive at he house and entered through the door

Straight to the bath and a soak she thought for she’d drive no more

So when you see her by the road pecking at the floor

She’s happy in her little world cos she wants to drive no more.