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All about the little red hen.
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Start of Story
She stepped inside with her bundle of sticks,
As cheerful as one could be,
When the Wicked Old Fox sprang full at her throat.
"I've got you now!" cried he.
"What good are bolts and bars?" he said,
"How silly you must be
To think that they could ever keep out
A cunning old Fox like me!"
Of course the poor Little Small Red Hen
Was now in a terrible fright.
She gave a scream and dropped her sticks,
They tumbled left and right.
But she just had time to fly on a beam
That went across over head,
Quite out of reach of the Wicked Old Fox.
"But I'll have you yet," he said.
Then he began to run round and round,
And round and round beneath,
Looking up every now and then,
Laughing and showing his teeth.
It made her dreadfully dizzy and faint,
She gave a cluck and a lurch,
She gave a flap and a flutter and flop,
And fell right off her perch.