A mouse moved into my house last week
It gave a squeak as it tried to speak
I tried Latin, then I tried Greek
But I was feeling weak
And I couldn't explain it plain
That this was my house and he hadn't asked permission to stay
But he stayed, I was lame
He moved into the room upstairs
He began making himself comfortable
At the table and chairs
And certainly the cupboard and the sink
I took a blink
And the food was gone
The Jelly and the scone
The Bacon and bun
But I don't begrudge him his fill
He has had a hard life after all
As a mouse
only now he's as big as a house
He fills the room upstairs
The floor boards creak, each time he squeaks
And it is beginning to drive me spare
He can't even fit through the gate
And I have to bring him his meal on large wood plate
Like a King of old
He holds court from his throne or his bed
And the mouse hoards have listened to every word he has said
