‘There are forty fousand fevvers on a frush!’
That’s what they all say!
In fact, there are only three thousand,
But it was still quite cosy where I lay.
However, on a wintry day like today
I’d much prefer forty thousand if I may!
My sweet sounding song
Can carry on for very long,
And it warms the heart of many a soldier
Whilst I perch pride-of-place on the hangar.
I see more thrushes suddenly appear,
An influx of angels!
They come from the north,
A harmony of bells!
By James McCulloch