A walk along a merry stream,
as relaxing an activity as there has ever been,
for a sunny Sunday afternoon
or so thought Berny, who would regret this soon.
Taking his warm hat, grabbing his pipe
and even his pocket handkerchief
from the table, preparing to leave
an apple in his hand, deliciously ripe.
His eyes, and that was his doom, then fell
on the Bramblebury Gazette which he liked so well
and he thought to himself: why do I not try
to make more of this walk, the time does so fly!
And he took the newspaper with him at last
opening it, eager for news of days past
proud of his novel and clever thought
his feet walking towards the path he sought.
A brilliant idea! He thought and he went
along the well known path to the bend
of the brook and enjoyed the fresh, crisp, cold air,
the very new news and the wind in his hair.
His pleasure was not meant to last though, alas,
from carefully placed pebbles to crisp frozen grass
his feet moved on and he had to walk back
a large curve to the path of which he'd lost track.
How easy to avoid his fate would have been
if his eyes had not followed the gazette so keen
while walking in his usual pace
along the riverbanks that some trees did grace.
A low growing branch was planning his doom
and before he knew there was a whack and a boom
Berny who hadn't seen it stick in his path
now sat in the freezing brook, taking a bath.
Now Berny was stubborn, as Hobbits can be
and refused to be bested by a silly old tree
He grabbed his Gazette and his soaking wet hat,
his pipe he had lost so he stormed home like that.
To change into some new dry and warm clothes
then go back and make sure that this old tree knows
as well as any who might have seen him fall
that his plan was perfect and not flawed at all.
Two hours later Berny, again, could be seen
with a look on his face, both determined and keen
striding aggressively towards the brook
with his slightly red nose buried deep in a book.
The same sneaky branch striked at him again
but Berny, prepared, ducked his head just then.
He smirked, congratulating himself with a grin
for a job well done that he'd count as a win.
Engrossed in his book and enjoying his walk
He continued, stepping around a long reed stalk
Heading straight on, before - I bet you guessed -
His plan failed again as his steps progressed
towards the water in a steady pace
without him realising a thing, as his face
was still buried deep in the book and he fell
splish splash in the brook where he gave a loud jell!
He's sitting there in the water, quite wet
taking a bath that he'd rather not had.
Blaming the book, the Gazette and his head,
wishing very much he'd not left his bed.
