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John Clare


Among the taller wood with ivy hung,

The old fox plays and dances round her young.

She snuffs and barks if any passes by

And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly,

The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see,

And turns agen, from danger never free.

If any stands she runs among the poles

And barks and snaps and drives them in the holes.

The shepherd sees them and the boy goes by

And gets a stick and progs the hole to try.

They get all still and lie in safety sure,

And out again when everything's secure,

And start and snap at blackbirds bouncing by

To fight and catch the great white butterfly.


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