Poetry

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Butterflies

Letís go to the green hills, you butterflies;

tiger butterflies, you are also welcome.

When it gets dark, we sleep among flowers;

Or on leaves if the flowers bid us no welcome.

By: Laura Corcoran

 

Sam

I have a dog called Sam

He doesnít like my mam

He likes to chase the cat

And roll around on the mat.

 

He likes to play in the sun

Always having fun

And when I say go to bed

He always bows his head.

 

BY : ALICE MOORE.

 

Sense of Sounds
I

The beat of a drum

The boom of a gun

The crack of a whip

The toot of a foghorn on a ship

II

The clang of a bell

The roar of hot fire in hell

The chug of an engine

And the creak of a hinge

III

The blare of a trumpet

The lapping of water

The clatter of hooves

And the crinkle of paper

IV

The twang of a bow

The wail of a siren

The tick of a clock

As it strikes twelve at night

By Gary Riordan

 

There was a man from Leeds.

Who ate a packet of seeds

In less than an hour his nose was a flower

An his head was covered in weeds

 

There was a woman from Surrey

Who ate a pot of curry

She ate the whole lot straight from the pot

And now she runs to the loo in a hurry

 

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