“Shouldn’t wonder,” she replied, “but who’s afraid of Jack Frost? Danny Fox and Mr. Wicked Weasel, to say nothing of Hungry Hawk, are more to be feared.” And that good lady rabbit began her ironing, for it was Tuesday, the day when all Rabbitville irons Monday’s wash, I’m told.
Just then Bobbie Redvest began to sing:
The summer time is over,
And all the golden hours,
No more the roses crimson bloom
Amid the garden bowers.
The little birds have left their nests
And now are strong of wing,
They will not build themselves a home
Until the lovely spring,
But fly away to Southern lands,
Where warmth and sunshine reign,
They cannot brave the winter wind,
The snow drifts in the lane.
And little four-foot furry folks
Will safely hide away,
And sleep until the winter’s past
And Spring has come to stay.
[AN ACCIDENT]
Well, after Uncle John Hare had spent about a week at the Old Bramble Patch, he thought it time to go home. So he called up his house and ordered his Bunnymobile sent for him.
“Now don’t worry about Little Jack Rabbit,” he said to the anxious lady bunny, “I’ll take good care of him and send him home safe and sound.”
Then he put on his goggles while the little rabbit cranked up the Bunnymobile, and off they went.
You see, Uncle John was so fond of his little rabbit nephew that he just had to take him out for a drive.