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All about the little red hen.
Start of Story
His house was perched on top of the hill,
It was made of rock and stone;
He and his wife, old Mother Fox,
They lived there all alone.
It was large and damp and draughty,
Ugly and cold and bare;
A tidy Little Small Red Hen
Would never be happy there.
Now, the Wicked Old Fox had often tried
Over and over again,
To catch by some sly trick or other
The Little Small Red Hen.
But she was far too clever for him,
She never let him find her,
And whenever she left her little house
She would lock the door behind her.
One morning, very early indeed,
Before the sun was hot,
The Wicked Old Fox said to Mother Fox,
"Put on the big black pot.
"I'm going to have another try,
I shall soon be back, and then
I promise you'll see at last I've caught
The Little Small Red Hen."