We were lost in the woods
Searching for Mr Badger
The snow was falling;
When we found a doorscraper,
A worn doormat, a bell- pull
Then Mr Badger’s door a short while later
I pulled on the bell pull
Whilst the Rat stamped in the snow
Until at last Mr Badger arrived;
Bad tempered at first but
Seeing who we were
He told us to come inside
He invited us in
From the snow and the cold
Into a passage both worn and quite shabby
We were underground now
Out of the weather In Badger\'s great home
Feeling warm, snug, cosy and happy.
“Come along Rat, come along Mole”
The Badger welcomed us in
Along the passageway were
Stout oaken doors,
Candles and here and there were
Mysterious passages
Badger flung open one of the doors;
He, Rat and I hurried in
A log fire was burning there
Pots and pans hung overhead.
The floor was well- worn red brick
And to a wooden table we were both led
We were both famished, the Rat and myself;
Badger prepared us a supper:
Cheese and green olives-
Bread, ham, beef and pickles,
Ale and brandy
The merry firelight flickered.
We talked as we ate
And we ate as we talked
With the news from the old River Bank.
Badger sat back and listened
Nodding at intervals
And from jugs of ale we drank.
When we were done with the food
We sat in sofas made for comfort
Beside the warm log fire
I imagined the weary travellers who
Must have rested there
In the safe and warmth of Badger’s lair.
Hanging from the rafters
Were onions and herbs
And various baskets of eggs
This was my sort of Harvest Home
Beside the fire: Triumphant
Warm hands, warm feet and warm legs.
We spoke of Mr Toad
And his passion for cars
And the fines that he
Had had to pay
The trouble he’d been in, with the law
And his various hospital stays.
We spoke too of the swans
And the ducks and the Otter
And his young son, little Portly
We talked of rowing boats
And of the Wild Wood from whence we had come
With its weasels and ferrets and stoats.
I admired the pictures and portraits,
The ship in a bottle
The chess board where Badger played
The merry firelight flickered
Over the room
And it was at his home that night that we stayed.
Badger showed us to rooms
Which were kind of bedchambers
His winter stores were piled everywhere
Apples and turnips,
Potatoes and nuts
Clean comfortable beds were there.
Next morning we left via a tunnel
Thanking the Badger
For the hospitality that he’d shown
Then crossed fields
And crossed hedgerows
Back to River Bank; glad now to be home.
MDC
NB: This poem is based on the chapter Mr Badger in The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.