THE MOUSE

Again today let’s have a bit of tongue-in-cheek levity.

The first poem I ever wrote was for an assignment in my sophomore English class in high school.  The teacher read it aloud to the class but had serious trouble doing it as she was laughing so hard.  Well, she gave me an A so that was encouraging.  Here it is:

In a dear little corner of  her middle-sized house

Her smart little puppy discovered a mouse.

She picked up the sweeper, the mousie ran out.

Her puppy, he followed that mouse with a shout.

Then into the woodbox the mousie did jump,

But the missus and puppy dug in with a thump.

To catch that old mousie and make him repent

Was the missus’ and puppy dog’s full intent.

When he was discovered, he jumped out and ran

To the parlor so he’d not get knocked on the pan.

By this time the missus was near scared to death,

So she jumped on the table to catch her breath.

Her daughter who had not been feeling well

Thought she’d try to ring mousie’s tolling bell.

But under the piano ran that little scamp.

“Twas his intent that here he might camp.

But when the piano was moved, he came out

And ran to the bedroom with a weak, squeaky shout

Where the puppy found him, but lost him again,

So you see, poor puppy dog’s work was in vain.

By this time the daughter had fetched their big broom,

And mousie was found once more in the room.

Then down came the broom on that poor little mouse,

And the only stove poker they had in the house

Was jabbed in his ribs till out of his head,

And soon this poor little mousie was dead.

He was wrapped in newspaper, thrown out of the house,

And that was the last of this poor little mouse.

 

 

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