The roses get the green fly, the taters get the blight, The cabbage get the caterpillars, what a blooming sight, Apples there are plenty, grub hole in every one, Birds have pecked the plums, the rot it has begun. About twenty years ago, my misses was...
This went on for couple of seasons, no other fox to match, Gave them the slip every time, along the brook he walked, Then back to Moor Covert wood, where he put up and stalked. Over the years you get to know the wildlife on your own "patch"...