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 mounted upon the 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,
In spite of all her cries

Up above the tree-tops
 And fields and seas they flew,
All the way to Russia,
And Madagascar too

Hilda Prune was very cross,
Yet borne home in a flash,
 They flew straight down the chimney-pot
And landed in the ash. 


Doggerel and illustration © Mirino (PW) February, 2012

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