'Twas the season for sneezing
and all through the house
not a creature was quiet --
not even the mouse.
With tiny-sized sniffles
and paws he should clean,
a sick little mousekin
completed the scene:
A family of ill ones
all tucked in their beds,
sipping coughsyrup cocktails
to lighten their heads,
But the poor baby mouse
had nothing to take:
his chest was all stuffed,
his nose and eyes ached.
So under the floorboards
he crawled here and there,
searching for aspirin
or things he could share;
Maybe a tissue,
a coughdrop to lick...
anything people might
take when they're sick.
"If it works for others,
then maybe for me!
I'd try anything now,
even Vitamin C!"
He searched and he hunted
this way and that
his aching head tired,
his hair full of mats,
Till at last he sighed
and gave up his quest,
tucking his tail
for a brief moment's rest.
When who should appear
but a girl and her sniffles;
carrying handfuls of Kleenex
all wadded in fistfuls;
She noticed the mouse
and begin to shout!
but the sight of his plight
kept the cry from her mouth.
They startled each other
and stared eye to eye:
the mouse in his corner
the girl on her side;
"Oh dear little mouse,
what's happened to you?
It looks to my eyes
like you're sick with the flu!"
His eyes were too runny
to blink in response,
so he wiggled his whiskers
and twitched his tail once.
She patted his head
and said, "My dear, it's alright!"
You can cozy with me
for the rest of the night!
So they slept in her bed
that girl and her mouse,
and no one else stirred
all through the house.
