Friday, November 23, 2012

'Twas the Night of Thanksgiving, Braveheart Style, With Mice

'Twas the night after Thanksgiving, when all through the house
all the creatures were stirring, trying to find that darn mouse.
The traps were set by the mouse-hole with care,
in the hopes that "Wee Dick" soon would be there.

The dogs should be nestled all snug in their beds,
with visions of chew toys dancing in their heads.
With me in my braids, and hubby in his cap,
With all that turkey, all we wanted was a nice, long nap.

When out in the foyer, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Out of the bedroom, I raced in a snap,
Tripping over shoes, clothes and misc. crap.

The nightlight on the flat of the newly painted wall,
gave the shadows of nighttime to everything and all,
when what to my barely open eyes should appear,
but a miniature horse with mouse rider, all very queer.

With the little mouse rider, so strange and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Wee Dick.
More rapid than bumblebees, his followers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Collin! Now Allister!
Now, Angus and Bonnie!
Oh, Kenna!  Oh, Gregor!
Oh, Donald! Oh, McCall!
To the top of the table!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!

As dog hair that before the old vacuum fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, they look to the sky,
so up to the table-top the mouse army flew,
with paw-fulls of weapons, and Wee Dick too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard a dog woof
and the army was suddenly gone in a poof.
As I put the dogs out and was turning around,
back to the table the mini-army did bound.

He was grey, all his fur, from his head to his feet
And his tiny, mouse clothes were all oddly, complete.
A bundle of arrows he had flung on his back,
He also carried a tiny ax to protect from attack.

His eyes--how they glowed!  His whiskers, so scary!
His cheeks were blue, his nose twitching with weary!
His gnarly, little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
and the hair on his chin was crusted in mouse-beer.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his cheek,
and the stench of it encircled him like a wreath.
He had a pointed face and a little furry belly,
that moved oddly when he rode, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was grubby and plump, a gross, little mouse,
I screamed a bit when I saw him, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

He spoke not but mouse words, and put his team straight to work.
he filled all his bags, then turned with a jerk.
Glaring at his army, there was no time to dwell
and giving them a nod, they began to fill their sacks as well.

He then sprang to his ride, to his army gave a big roar;
And away they ran, where there are crumbs, there are always more
And I heard him exclaim, as they rode back to their wall kingdom,

"They may take our lives, but they will never take our FREEDOMM!

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