As we didn’t have a contributor post for today, here is one of Blyton’s poems. It’s rather apt as we were at the beach yesterday, and Stef did a fair bit of paddling.
The waves lift up their heads to see
How far off is the shore,
Then over they curl and run to me
With a thundery splash and roar!
They tickle my feet and they cover my toes
With a thousand bubbles of foam,
And I say “I won’t let you wet my clothes,
Go home, you waves, go home!”
So back they run to the sea in fright,
With a chattering, gurgling noise,
They’re gone in a moment out of sight,
Like mischievous girls and boys!
But then in a trice they are back once more,
They’re much, much bigger than ever before,
Oh, don’t knock me over, please!
I’m running away, I’m running away,
And the waves are chasing me fast,
I’m jumping up on a rock, hurray,
I’m safe – I’m SAFE, at last!
Specially written for the Twelfth Holiday Book, published 1957 by Sampson Low.
Fiona
pippastef
worldofblyton
World of Blyton 