Little ballerina
Running through the walls
Chewing at the plaster
Nibbling in the halls
Peeking so discreetly
Staying in the lurk
Warnings come so loudly
I mean to do you hurt
Brother feels so fondly
Me, I hate your guts
I wouldn't mind you nearly
If you stayed in your own hut
With all your many offspring
And all your stolen goods
Hang your little children
From the nearest wood
And watch the owls and cats
Haunt my garden grave
You'll wish you were a bat
This coming rat dooms day
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2 comments:
That is a perfect poem for rats and mice. I love it!
Small farm girl is right this is perfect!
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