'Hey, you’re scratching my trunk,'
      Said the sycamore tree,
'And your claws are so sharp!
      Ow!  They’re torturing me.'

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Said the cheeky grey squirrel:
     'I really don’t care.
I’ve a dog on my heels
     So I can’t stop and stare.'

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The trees like their visitors -
     They come and they go.
So who are these guests?
     Come, surely you know.

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Trees offer them shelter,
    And offer them rest,
But of all of their visitors
     Who do they like best?

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Well I think it’s the birds.
     Is that what you guessed? -
But with so many singers
     Could you choose the best?

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Copyright on all my poems 

 

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