the wind in the willows

   
   
   
   
   
I was with badger on curtailing dear old toad’s behaviour on the open road, but I think badger possibly went too far, and then deep in the wild wood it    
   
snowed, and toad hall was taken over by the proletariat, and I suspect that    
I am more of a weasel and a stoat than a mole, but then, no one’s perfect