Rish stepped up to the butter box
And found it full of dust.
She ran her fingers like a fox
Tap-tapping as paws must
To find a path if they’re to catch
What slick and slippered mole
Her fox need hunt and haunt and fetch
From down its buttered hole.
And down it went! Down! Down it went!
Down dove the dusty fox!
Rish sent it off with fingers bent
Then melted in the box.