I had forgotten that The Little Engine That Could is about the delivery of Christmas toys.
Here is a poem I still love. I think of it when I watch the busy squirrels that live here, scampering on branches, fences, and trees.
Whisky Frisky
Whisky Frisky,
Hippity hop,
Up he goes
To the tree-top!
Whirly, twirly,
Round and round,
Down he scampers
To the ground.
Furly, curly,
What a tail!
Tall as a feather,
Broad as a sail!
Where's his supper?
In the shell;
Snappy, cracky,
Out it fell.
May I now fall out of this shell of discomfort into a deep sleep!!
