A baby owl, whose name was Blanche,

Perched bravely on a narrow branch,

And wondered whether she should try,

To jump off and attempt to fly,

She bravely counted up to ten,

And she counted ten again,

She jumped, she found she couldn’t fly

And lay there looking at the sky,

‘It’s lucky that that branch,’ said she,

‘Was on the ground, and not the tree,

Then off she ran and flapped her wings,

And said ‘These are the most awkward things

For though I skip and jump quite high

I’m still no nearer to the sky’,

And falling down she gave a howl

And wished she’d never been an owl,

Till finally her mother found her

And put a great big wing around her

Then said, ‘Dear Blanche, don’t be upset

You haven’t grown your feathers yet’!