...and not from the song of the same name.
As I round the corner of the garden shed I hear snickering, giggling, and raucousness . The hallmarks of mischievious deeds by small folk. And indeed where once was the proud and iconic display of tumbled up gumboots by the back door in all states of sloshiness, now 'tis merely the muddy crumbs of dirt and despair that greets me. In all this emptiness I wonder how so many gumboots, galoshes, wellingtons by other names could possibly be providing so much mirth for those so small of stature.
Mainly I wonder where the boots are. My feet are wet.