The cat’s long whiskers bristled
Her eyes grew round and sly
For their sittin’ in the cornfield
Was that sleeked little mousey
Come here, my little mousey friend
A tale I must narrate
About camaraderie between a field mouse
And a fine farmers muggy like me
The little mouse sat back and grinned
His little teeth a-chatter
The fat old cat was tricking him
She’d have him for her supper
The August sun beat down on them
As they scrutinized each other
A good mouser bragged the farmer’s wife
The little field mouse sniggered
She’d been stalking him since June
And no nearer her supper
G C Hill 2018
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 