| Water Warning |
| Water running over stones, Shaping them like spheres and cones, Makes a lovely splashing noise, Almost like a troop of boys. Here I sit beside this stream; Here I sit, relax, and dream. In the distance I hear thunder, Even though my head is under. I must leave my dreaming place, To my home the rain I'll race. I'm at my door and soaking wet, To my mother I'm in debt. She kept a towel nice and warm. She had warned me of a storm. |
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