Dear Mousie

Dear Mousie

Hey there, my timid friend,

Don't scurry away around the bend.

I know you fear I'll be your end.

But be sure, I'm not your foe.

So this letter I thee send;

I won't chase you with my hoe.

I know that man may seem a louse

For disrupting the life of little mouse

But believe me, 'twas not on purpose.

So fear me not then

In this, life's awesome three ring circus.

We can become friends.

Sure, you sometimes swipe an ear of corn

It's to that life that you were born

You must eat to see the morn

It's not that very much

And I won't miss it from my plentiful horn

So take one to your little hutch.

Oh, but your hutch is now in ruins!

The fierce winds were its undoing.

And so you soon must be pursuing

A new abode for in to dwell.

Winter's harsh winds are now a-coming.

I sincerely wish you well.

You saw the fields bare after harvest

So below the ground you built your fine nest,

A den to challenge winter's harsh test.

But how could you know

To plow the land now was in my interest.

Your home ript asunder by my harrow.

Your poor home now lies all a-rubble.

You are homeless despite your trouble.

No more stores to provide a nibble.

Homeless! Homeless! What a pity!

No warm burrow, not e'en a hovel

But men too are homeless in the city.

You're not alone, my little mousie

In finding yourself without a housie.

Scheme as we might, some plans are lousy

and go oft awry.

It's enough to drive one to be a sousie

And imbibe, I cannot lie.

Still you are lucky in your own way

For you live only day to day.

We men must always plan our stay.

Prospects oft are not so merry.

But when successful plans come into play

Life can be a bowl of cherries.

Your friend,

The farmer.

This is a modern retelling of Robbie Burns' To a Mouse. You'll find the original here.

Here is the complete index to all my essays, stories and poems at Vocal.