A mousey mousey version of Clement Clarke Moore's 'A Visit From St. Nicholas'.
| Twas The Morning Of Christmas - Mousey Mousey Version
Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the house
no one was stirring but many a mouse.
From out of their mouse-holes they popped out their heads
while all of the humans were tucked in their beds,
then, getting braver, they stepped out of the walls
for some curious scents drifted along the halls.
There were scents from the kitchen, and scents from the lounge;
so many goodies were there to be scrounged.
Their feet pitter pattered along parquet floors,
as the mice made their way to those left ajar doors.
A veritable gold mine was found in the kitchen
as sweetness and spice set those whiskers to twitching.
There was cinnamon, nutmeg, chocolate and cheese;
the promise of goodies made them weak at the knees.
But first, the challenge - a mountainous climb
for each mouse to ascend, one at a time.
The cloth on the table, the leg of a chair,
both came in useful to get those mice there.
And then when they got there, the mice they did stop
for all of the treats made their little jaws drop.
There were cookies to nibble, cakes nice to munch,
cheese on a stick and some crackers to crunch.
Those mice soon became full, with not an inch to spare.
They made their way down with the aid of a chair.
Then in the lounge they were stunned by a tree -
one in the house they did not think to see.
It glittered with tinsel, sparkled with lights,
but it was on the presents those mice set their sights.
The aroma of chocolate drifted through paper,
and straight towards them the mice did quickly caper.
With a tug of the teeth and a scratch of the claw,
there was plenty for each leaving very much more.
There were stockings of fruit and dishes of nuts;
those mice grew fatter - no 'if's or 'buts'.
And then from above came the creak of a floor,
there was no time left now for them to eat more.
The mice, they did scatter, for that sound said
if they did not get home they would surely be dead.
They ran for their lives - all except one
whose gluttony left it feeling undone.
The mouse took a look to find somewhere to hide
and then spied a stocking with some space inside.
It hung by the chimney, but would the mouse fit?
She scrabbled and scrambled, moved contents a bit
and when the door opened she ducked down inside,
but footsteps drew closer - her hopes began to slide.
A little hand inside the stocking did grope
and the mouse, she did quiver, giving up hope.
The little girl looked at the mouse in her hand,
it's dire predicament she did understand.
Placing a finger to her lips she urged a hush,
she walked to the hallway but she didn't rush.
Bending beside the mouse-hole in the wall,
she gave a stroke, let the mouse gently fall.
"You must be careful while roaming the house,
but I'm glad you had presents. Happy Christmouse!