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picture stories sleepy houses  

The houses were sleeping,
they’d taken a beating
and needed a meeting with God,
to replenish their wares
and their woeful cares.
But now they all slept in the land of nod.
Not shining the windows,
not shovelling the snows.
Nor cleaning the rooms
with bristly brooms.
They had gone to the sea to bathe in moonlight
but they got into a fight with the clouds of the night,
who’s delight was covering the bright out of spite.
But then the lightning smite
and the houses took fright,
scared by its might,
they took flight for home.
In the day they dozed,
curtains closed,
refilling their zing,
So they all could sing.
‘Oh we are the housey houses,
we don’t wear no trousers,
were gonna pile ourselves so high,
meet those clouds, punch their eye.’