Into the forest and through the woods,
mother makes us go.
But I drop bread crumbs,
because I’m not dumb,
and soon we’ll be back home.
Into the forest and through the woods,
we cannot find the trail.
The birds ate our bread,
and soon we’ll be dead;
we’re starving and we’re frail.
Into the forest and through the woods,
the witch’s house I spy.
Hurrah for the cake!
No more bellyache!
On a big, soft bed we lie.
Into the forest and through the woods,
the witch wants me fat for dinner.
Now Gretel must cook,
‘cause the witch mistook
the chicken bone for my finger.
Into the forest and through the woods,
she’s firing up the stove.
She says, Climb in now,
but Gretel asks, How?
and gives her a great big shove.
Into the forest and through the woods,
to our own house we go,
We have the treasure,
and now with pleasure
our father welcomes us home.
mother makes us go.
But I drop bread crumbs,
because I’m not dumb,
and soon we’ll be back home.
Into the forest and through the woods,
we cannot find the trail.
The birds ate our bread,
and soon we’ll be dead;
we’re starving and we’re frail.
Into the forest and through the woods,
the witch’s house I spy.
Hurrah for the cake!
No more bellyache!
On a big, soft bed we lie.
Into the forest and through the woods,
the witch wants me fat for dinner.
Now Gretel must cook,
‘cause the witch mistook
the chicken bone for my finger.
Into the forest and through the woods,
she’s firing up the stove.
She says, Climb in now,
but Gretel asks, How?
and gives her a great big shove.
Into the forest and through the woods,
to our own house we go,
We have the treasure,
and now with pleasure
our father welcomes us home.
Wynne Huddleston's poetry may be read in Emerald Tales, Waterways: Poetry in the Mainstream, Gemini Magazine, Enchanted Conversation, The Shine Journal, joyful!, From the Porch Swing - memories of our grandparents, Poets for Living Waters, THEMA, and Birmingham Arts Journal.
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