The Poky Little Fluffy by Menthol (and Janette Sebring Lowrey)
Five little fluffies dug a hole under the fence and went for a walk in the wide, wide world
through the meadow they went, down the road, over the bridge, across the green grass, and up the hill, one right after the other.
And when they got to the top of the hill, the counted themselves: one, two, three, four. one little fluffy wasn’t there.
“now whewe in the woww’d is dat poky wittwe fwuffy?” they wondered. for he certainly wasn’t on top of the hill.
he wasn’t going down the other side. the only thing they could see going down was a fuzzy caterpillar-munsta.
He wasn’t coming up this side, the only thing they could see coming up was a quick green lizard-munsta.
But when they looked down at the grassy place near the bottom of the hill, there he was, running round and round, his snout to the ground.
“What bwudda doin’?” the four little fluffies asked one another. And down they went to see, roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, till they came to the green grass; and there they stopped short.
“What am fwuffy doin’?” they asked.
“Fwuffy smeww somefin’!” said the poky little fluffy.
Then the four little fluffies began to sniff, and they smelled it too.
“Wice-puddy-nummies!” They said
And home they went, as fast as their little weggies would go, over the bridge, up the road, through the meadow, and under the fence. And there, sure enough, was dinner waiting for them, with rice pudding for dessert.
But their mummah was greatly displeased.
“You da fwuffies who digged da howe undah da fencie-munsta!” she said, “No wice-puddy-nummies fow bad fwuffies!” and she made them go straight to the fluffpile to sleep.
But the poky little fluffy came home after everyone was sound asleep.
He ate up the rice pudding and crawled into the fluffpile, happy as a lark.
The next morning someone had filled the hole and put up a sign. The sign read: “DON’T EVER DIG HOLES UNDER THIS FENCE!”
BUT…
The five little fluffies dug a hole under the fence, just the same, and went for a walk in the wide, wide world.
Through the meadow they went, down the road, across the green grass, and up the hill, two and two. And when they got to the top of the hill, they counted themselves: one, two, three, four. One little fluffy wasn’t there.
“Now whewe in da woww’d is dat poky wittwe fwuffy?” they wondered. For he certainly wasn’t on top of the hill.
He wasn’t going down the other side, the only thing they could see going down was a big black spider.
He wasn’t coming up this side, the only thing they could see coming up was a brown “fwoggy-munsta”. But when they looked down at the grassy place near the bottom of the hill, there was the poky little fluffy, sitting still as a stone, with his head to one side and his ears cocked up.
“What bwudda doin’?” the four little fluffies asked one another. And down they went to see, roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, till they came to the green grass; and there they stopped short.
“What am fwuffy doin’?” they asked.
“Fwuffy heaw somefin’!” said the poky little fluffy.
The four little fluffies listened, and they could hear it too. “Chockwit puddy nummies!” they cried, “Somebody spoonin’ it into fwuffy’s bowws!”
And home they went, as fast as their little weggies would go, over the bridge, up the road, through the meadow, and under the fence. And there, sure enough, was dinner waiting for them, with chocolate custard for dessert. But their mummah was greatly displeased.
“You da fwuffies who digged da howe undah da fencie-munsta!” she said, “No chockwit-puddy-nummies fow bad fwuffies!” and she made them go straight to the fluffpile to sleep.
But the poky little fluffy came home after everyone was sound asleep.
He ate up the chocolate custard and crawled into the fluffpile, happy as a lark.
The next morning someone had filled the hole and put up a sign. The sign read: “DON’T EVER EVER DIG HOLES UNDER THIS FENCE!”
BUT…
In spite of that, the five little fluffies dug a hole under the fence, just the same, and went for a walk in the wide, wide world.
Through the meadow they went, down the road, across the green grass, and up the hill, two and two. And when they got to the top of the hill, they counted themselves: one, two, three, four. One little fluffy wasn’t there.
“Now whewe in da woww’d is dat poky wittwe fwuffy?” they wondered. For he certainly wasn’t on top of the hill.
He wasn’t going down the other side, the only thing they could see going down was a little green snakey-munsta.
He wasn’t coming up this side, the only thing they could see coming up was a big grasshopper.
But when they looked down at the grassy place near the bottom of the hill, there he was, looking hard at something on the ground in front of him.
“What bwudda doin’?” the four little fluffies asked one another. And down they went to see, roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, till they came to the green grass; and there they stopped short.
“What am fwuffy doin’?” they asked.
“Fwuffy see somefin’.” said the poky little fluffy.
The four little fluffies looked, and they could see it too. It was a ripe, red strawberry growing there in the grass. “Bewwy-cake-nummies!” they cried.
And home they went, as fast as their little weggies would go, over the bridge, up the road, through the meadow, and under the fence. And there, sure enough, was dinner waiting for them, with strawberry shortcake for dessert. But their mummah was greatly displeased.
“You da fwuffies who digged da howe undah da fencie-munsta again!” she said, “No bewwy-cake-nummies fow bad fwuffies!” and she made them go straight to the fluffpile to sleep.
But the four little fluffies waited until they thought she was asleep, and then they slipped out and filled up the hole, and when they turned around there was their mummah watching them.
“you gewd fwuffies nao,” she said, “bebbehs can habe bewwy-cake-nummies!”
And this time, when the poky little fluffy got home, he had to squeeze in through a wide place in the fence. And there were his four bwuddas and sissies, licking the last crumbs from their saucer.
“Oh nuuu!” said his mummah. “Babbeh nu habe any sweety-bewwy-cake-nummies cuz you a swow fwuffy! aww da numies gone nao!” So the poky little fluffy had to go to the fluffpile without a single bite of shortcake-nummies, and he felt very sorry for himself.
And the next morning someone had put up a sign that read: NO DESSERTS EVER UNLESS FLUFFIES NEVER DIG HOLES UNDER THIS FENCE AGAIN!!
