November
The harvestís in, the leaves have dropped,
The birds have flown away,
The nights are drawing in so fast
Thereís less light every day.
And soon the icy fingers of the frost
Across your lawn will creep
Making the grass all crisp and white
While you are fast asleep.
The firework seasonís about to begin,
Bangs and whizzes for nights on end,
They terrify Jemima, my furry little friend.
Itís going to be cold and dank and wet,
The garden looks so bleak.
So draw the curtains, light the fire,
Indoor comforts you should seek.
Iím beginning to feel very sleepy,
It is the strangest thing,
I think Iím going to hibernate,
See you all next spring.
nov copy