THE WIND

Over the muddy, water-filled fields,

The howling, rushing wind doth blow,

And round our house he totters and reels,

But we never heed while the fire doth glow.

Then somebody carelessly opens the door,

And in he comes with a tearing sweep,

To blow all the pictures down on the floor,

And waken us up from a dozing sleep.

 

Johnnie Spence

Tullygrawley School