There was a poor old mouse,
Who had no proper house.
He lived in a hole in the wall
Which was the size of a cricket ball.
He was very clever and nice
And was liked by all other mice.
But of course, he had a foe -
The cat whose name was Joe.
One day that happened:
The number of mice got slackened.
The old mouse's brain worked
And pointed at the cat who lurked.
Our poor mouse one day
Met his foe near the hay.
As he challenged Joe to catch him,
His eyes changed to sharp from dim.
Both of them ran round and round
And entered the kitchen bound.
They shattered precious pots and pans
And scattered tins and old cans.
By the time the maid came,
Our mouse got away, quite tame.
He hid and heard her shriek and roar
And saw her kick Joe out of the door.
Never did Joe meet the mouse
And never did he enter the house.
Our old mouse got a bigger hole
From his friends. That's all!
YOU ARE READING
THE POOR OLD MOUSE
PoetryThis is a continuation of an interesting, but incomplete poem I found in The Mystery of Strange Messages by Enid Blyton
