Hilda Prune

                   

 

                       Hilda Prune had a broom                        

Upon which she could fly,

 But she used it most for sweeping,

For the broom flew too high

Yet one day in autumn

                    When the house-work was done,                          

   She straddled her wondrous broom-stick

Perhaps to have some fun

Once around the house they flew

Then much to her surprise,

  The broom flew out of the window,

Despite her angry cries

Up above the tree-tops

 And fields and seas they flew,

All the way to Russia,

And even Timbuktu

Hilda Prune was very cross,

Yet borne home in a flash,

 They flew straight down the chimney-pot

And landed in the ash. 

1975

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Doggerel and illustration © Mirino (PW) February, 2012