There once was a wily old mouse
who never did learn how to shout
so he climbed up a rusty old pipe
in search of a brand new life.
From roof to roof he jumped on all fours
but he couldn’t quite make them all
and so he sat in a corner to pout
and practice his own special shout.
One squeak, two squeaks, three squeaks, more
till out of his mouth came a roar
and so he roared his way to a fall
and spent the rest of his life in a pall.
Dear little mouse once timid and shy
suffered somewhat in his brand new life
until beneath his ego and pride
there arose the need of a bride.
With the speed of light he descended the pipe
but lo and behold went awry
and landed instead in a dirty old bin
filled to the brim with sin.
And finally there he learnt how to shout,
“Please let me out, out, out”
but no one who shouts can ever be heard
so he typed out a note in Word.
The mouse is still there and it’s simple, you see -
because mice like some men can’t read
the signs and symbols of a poor soul
who ran up and down a pole!
Oh well, at least I was here.