¶ Intro / Opening
Hello there. Welcome to Albert's Bookshelf. I'm Albert's Dad. Now, Albert loves listening to a story. Would you like me to read one of his favourite books? Okay, well, get yourself comfy, and I'll begin.
¶ The Rhyming Rabbit's Early Struggles
The Rhyming Rabbit by Julia Donaldson and Lydia Monks. The rhyming rabbit was sitting with his family in a grassy field. All the other rabbits were eating the grass, but the rhyming rabbit was making up a poem about it. Grass is growing all around. It makes a lovely swishing sound. It looks so green. It smells so sweet. And best of all, it's good to eat. Stop rhyming, start eating, said the other rabbits.
It was beginning to get dark when one of the rabbits pricks up his ears and stamps a foot. Fox! he shouted. Straight away all the rabbits ran to their burrow. All except for the rhyming rabbit, who closed his eyes and made up a poem about the fox. O fearful fox or rusty red, you fill our rabbit hearts with dread So silently you crouch and sniff Until you catch our rabbit whiff. So hungrily you cunning beast, You stalk your tasty rabbit feet. You're sly and crafty. But we can run as fast as you.
Don't rhyme, run yelled the other rabbits. The rhyming rabbit opened his eyes, saw the fox, and ran. He reached the burrow just in time. It was night time. The tired rabbits lay down together in their burrow. All Except for the rhyming rabbit, who sat apart from the others singing a song to them. Then close your eyes and look. Of grassy fields and sunny hours and cabbages. Cauliflowers. Stop singing! Go to sleep! said the other rabbits. The rhyming rabbit felt sad and lonely.
The other rabbits were all snoring. Couldn't get to sleep. going to go off on my own.
¶ Lonely Encounters in the Tunnels
He said to himself and he started to dig. He dug a long tunnel. And to keep himself going, he made up a short digging poem. The rhyming rabbit felt sad. and lonely. The other rabbits were all snoring, but he couldn't get to sleep. But moan. I'm going to go off on my own, he said to himself, and he started to dig. He dug a long tunnel, and to keep himself going, he made up a short digging poem. Dig, dig, quick, quick. Scrabble, scrabble, kick, kick.
The tunnel led him up and down and round a corner where he met a worm. The rhyming rabbit stopped in his tracks and made up a new poem. Wonderful Worm. in the soil? Why do you wiggle and curl and coil? Where are you going? Where have you been? How do you manage to stay so clean? How do you change your shape like that? From long and skinny to the big One more thing that's been bothering me. How can you bear to eat earth for tea? But the worm said nothing.
He had no ears, so he couldn't hear the poem. Round the next corner, the rhyming rabbit met a mole. The mole's eyes were very small but Yeah. Maybe he would enjoy a spot of poetry. The rhyming rabbit stood on his hind legs and began to recite. Marvellous Mole as black as With shoveling toes and pointed nose, You snuffle around beneath the ground. You're practically blind, but never mind. At least you can hear, so lend an ear.
And hear when I say, Mole's rule, okay? Be quiet, said the mole. I'm looking for worms. The rhyming rabbit felt very lonely, but he carried on digging. He dug and he dug, till he met a centipede. Straight away, he thought up his best poem yet. Oh centipede with a hundred legs. Supposing you laid a hundred eggs, and supposing the baby centipedes had a hundred legs like their mum and dad, how many legs would that be? And supposing the baby centipedes grew.
They each laid a hundred eggs like you and all of the new little sisters and brothers had just the same number of legs as the others. How many legs would that be? Shut up, said the centipede. I hate sums.
¶ A Poetic Friendship and Fond Farewell
And he felt hungry too. He dug his way up out of the earth and into the open air and found himself on a hill. The grass was covered in dew. It tasted delicious. Then he gazed up at the night sky and made up a new poem. Oh midnight blue and velvet sky, as silver stars so bright and high. Moon so clear and full that she The rhyming rabbit couldn't think of a rhyme for full. He stopped and scratched his head.
Wool said a voice. The rhyming rabbit turned round and saw a woolly sheep standing beside him. Thank God. he said, and the sheep replied, I Poems all the time. Another poet The rhyming rabbit stared in wonder. Before he could think of a rhyming reply, the sheep went on. How nice it is to meet a rabbit with whom to share my rhyming habit. The rhyming rabbit felt so happy that he decided to make up a poem for the sheep.
O pretty and poetic sheep, who stands upon the hill so steep, with handsome horns and woolly fleece, as white as snow or clouds, or Geese? suggested the sheep. She smiled at the rabbit and Shall I make a poem up for you? Oh yes, I pray you, sheep, please do So the sheep cleared her throat and recited. Any old rabbit can dig. Any old rabbit can feed. But a rabbit who knows how to make up poems is a special rabbit indeed. Any old rabbit can run. Any old rabbit can sleep.
But only a very special rabbit could make up poems with a sheep. The rhyming rabbit sighed happily. The sun came up. A beautiful day. The rhyming rabbits and the sheep stayed together all day making up poems about the sun and the flowers and the trees. As evening fell and their shadows grew long, the rhyming rabbit remembered his life. And he said to the sheep, the others must be getting worried. It's time I hurried. The sheep looked very sad, and said Go Oh no.
Oh, sorrow! But the rhyming rabbit replied, I will come back again tomorrow. Would you like to hear some of Albert's favourite stories? Then please hit subscribe wherever you get your podcasts and be the first to hear about all of our new releases. And ask your friends and family to do the same.