Trees don't make great hiding places.
Nobody seemed to have told us.
Perched on branches thick with leaves,
invisible to the mortal eye.
Nobody seemed to have told us
the teacher was on her way.
Invisible to the mortal eye,
we could be heard all the way to Bettws.
The teacher was on her way,
we knew the protocol for this.
We could be heard all the way to Bettws,
no wonder she caught us so easily.
We knew the protocol for this,
falling out of the branches one by one.
No wonder she caught us so easily
but our last man was still hidden.
Falling out of the branches one by one,
we were certainly going to die.
But our last man was still hidden,
before the bough gave way.
We were certainly going to die,
perched on branches thick with leaves
before the bough gave way.
Trees don't make great hiding places.
(This pantoum was inspired by a tree-climbing escapade I was involved in while at school.)
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