Pauline and the Foxes' Folly
Richard
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In a quaint little bungalow, at the edge of town,
Lives Pauline, our heroine, with hair of silver crown.
Eighty-five and spry as ever, fiercely independent,
She loves cosy garden and her paving, oh so splendid.
Oh, Pauline, Pauline, the foxes made a plan,
To steal her and fish pie, but she’s a wily gran.
With and tricks and cleverness, she made the foxes flee,
Pauline’s garden’s fox-free now, her domain in victory.
The foxes their beady eyes, they watched her every night,
From hedges, over fences, in the pale moonlight.
She feared they'd ambush her one day, while fetching from the shed,
homemade pie, a quiche or two, her freezer's pride bread.
With her back garden paved so nice, she’d with pride anew,
But those pesky foxes ruined it, droppings and a chew.
So Pauline hatched a cunning scheme, she paid a man in traps,
To catch the bandits, and perhaps avoid mishaps.
The trap was sprung, fox was caught, and taken far away,
Pauline’s smile broad and bright, she’d won the battle, hey!
Now watches carefully, for any new invasion,
But her garden’s and sound again, a fortress of elation.
So here’s Pauline, brave and bold, with freezer full and heart gold,
Her garden’s now a peaceful place, where foxes not show their face.
A tale of triumph, wit, might, of how one woman won the fight,
Against foxes in the night, Pauline’s garden now shines bright!