Timmy came home with a mouse
He brought it right into our house,
Then he set it right down
With somewhat of a frown,
As it chuntered and squeaked its’ outrage.
The cute Harvest Mouse is so tiny
But in spite of his size is real feisty,
He sat back on his heels
Squeaking "I’m not meals on wheels"
And "Big cat you belong in a cage!"
With each pat of a paw on his head
His outrage in squeaks could be read,
For this he’ll not stand
In a corner he’s crammed,
Where our Timmy has got him waylaid.
Behind a plant in the corner, he’s hiding
And with huge black eyes he is spying,
Wondering how to escape
From the terrible fate
That this cat, in his thoughts, has arranged.
Armed with a tub, torch and card
To catch him really was hard,
But with teamwork and chopstick
Our moment we could pick,
Poor Mousy, his nerves are all frayed.
At last in the tub he is trapped
His strength so nearly is sapped,
To our mercy he yields
We send him home to the fields,
For a chance to live to old age.
Poor Timmy is still in the house
Searching around for his mouse,
Though we tell him he’s clever
In his hunting endeavour,
He’ll not know of the rescue we staged!
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