sang the Mad March Hare one day in March when the stormy winds were blowing.
He went hoppety-hop to his little wee house in the woods. He roared so loudly as he went about his house-keeping and broke so many dishes as he washed his cups and saucers, that Old Hug-Me-Tight, the Bear, pricked up his ears as he passed by, saying:
“Spring has come, but do beware,
Hear him roar, the Mad March Hare.”
The Mad March Hare stuck his head out the kitchen window and called:
“Old Hug-Me-Tight, come in, come in,
If you can stand my noisy din.”
The Bear was happy to come in and dry his wet paws by the kitchen fire.
The fire roared up the chimney.
The tea kettle sang and the Mad March Hare kept dropping dishes, clitter, clatter, smash, crash on the floor.