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Mushrooms For Breakfast

by Ye Olde Yawny Boxian

Over dew drenched fields
At the crack of dawn
Heading for the meadow
Where the mushrooms spawn.

Rabbits are thump-thumping
Letting others know that we
Are moving round about
In their vicinity.

From Cloud Hill woods
A distant owl does cry
And reynard homeward bound
Stealthily slinks by.

Pausing at the stile
We listen to the morning breeze
That seems to be a-whispering
To the restless trees
As if they are complaining
Of our very presence there.
Then all at once, the air is filled
With bird song every where.

One of nature's mysteries
How quickly mushrooms grow.
Suddenly as if by magic
All around they show.

Horses canter over
Curious as can be,
Nuzzling at our pockets
The apples there to see.

Magpies are chattering
And overhead a rook
With a raucous "caw"
Heads down towards the brook.

Heavy with milk - the cows
Are waiting at the gate,
Somewhere near a woodcock
Chucks softly to his mate.

We see our chimney smoking
In the valley down below.
There is no time to lose
We really have to go,
The kettle will be on the boil
The smell of bacon in the air
Our mam she will be waiting
For the breakfast fare.

"There's nothing like a mushroom"
Our dad will say for sure
"Picked early in the morning
And grown on hoss manure."