Hettie Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

When Hettie Norman
fell down the bank
into an amazing bed
of stinging nettles,
she didn't half shriek.
It made me feel weak.

She kicked her way out
with a shout
at the top of her voice.
Then crying with dread
and looking bright red,
ran all the way home, screaming.

I ran behind kinda' close as I could.
She wouldn't wait,
screamed through her gate,
her skin spotted red.
I knocked on her door,
and her mother said
'poor Hetties in bed'.

Sally Plumb