We got together around August last. At first we sang folk songs, sea shanties, some spirituals. And then a bunch of sheep said, Get yourself a teacher. We settled on a nightingale from the local wood. She agreed to work with us on carols for the Christmas season. We reckoned we could do a few gigs in return for some carrots, sweet hay etc.
We had bookings from the cattle shed, the pigsty and the chicken run. But then the nightingale flew south for the winter before we learnt the words.
Old MacDonald is a bit annoyed, but, hey, E-I-E-I-O.
Written in response to the Friday Fictioneers weekly 100 word challenge found here.