Tuesday, December 23, 2008


Twas two nights before Christmas and all through the house,
many creatures were stirring not just one little mouse;

Their poop was strewn round the floor without care,
in hopes of the meal they soon would find there.

The children were screaming and ran for their beds,
While visions of Hantavirus danced in their heads;

And Dave in his boxers, and I with a bat,
Had just settled down to wait the attack,

When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the barracade to see what was the matter.

Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and threw up the trash.

The light on the door of the fresh baited trap
Gave the lustre of carrnage to objects entrapped,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a tiny young mouse, his eyes full of fear,

With a little black nose, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be quite sick.

More rapid than sneezing I made up my mind,
And I whistled, and shouted, and rejoiced at my find;

"We've caught one! We've got him! now, one less to spite!
Come on now! Let's go now! Take him out this cold night!

To the top of the lane! Throw him over the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As tumbleweeds that before the wild tornado fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the highway our tahoe we drove,
With the trap full of mice, and some bugs we suppose.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the trap
The squeaking and squealing of each little rat.

As I reached down my hand, and was picking them up,
I knew all they wanted was on something to sup.

They were dressed all in fur, from their head to their feet,
And their eyes were all round and cute when they squeaked;

A bundle of fleas they had stuck on their back,
And they looked like small rodents all brown and all black.

Their eyes -- how they twinkled! Their feet oh how tiny!
Their cheeks were like fur balls, their noses so shinny!

Their droll little mouths were drawn up, teeth protruding,
And the whiskers on their cheeks were twitching and moving;

The stump of a seed they held tight in their teeth,
And the smell of them encircled the car like a wreath;

They had pointed faces and little round bellies,
That shook, as they coward like bowls of jelly.

They were chubby and plump, a right jolly old bunch,
And I laughed when I saw them, in spite of my hunch;

A wink of their eyes and a twist of their heads,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

They spoke not a word, but went straight out the trap,
And bounced down the road; and didn't look back,

And taking my fingers off of my nose,
And giving a sigh, my spirits had rose;

I sprang to the tahoe, to my family gave a whistle,
And away we all drove like the down of a thistle.

And I heard Dave exclaim, ere we drove out of sight,
"Good riddens their gone or at least for tonight."


april said...

Shara - sooo good! You'll be excited to know we read your poem as a family tonight all cuddled around by the lights of our Christmas tree...what
a memory~Thank you and now I am really looking forward to your first book.

lauradodson said...

:o) now you need to go see Despereaux.