The loft in our barn holds a secret
We use it to store bales of hay
That someone had shaped like a castle
To hide all their secrets away
A rope hanging down from the rafters
Swung out from the loft to the floor
Before I could see who was swinging
They scampered away out the door
So I carried on tending my tractor
And above me I heard someone yell
I couldn’t tell who it was squealing
The hay bales had muffled it well
I decided to leave it no longer
And climbed up the old metal still-age
To a salvo of cabbage and carrots
From my son and the kids from the village
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
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