Baby Mice – John D. Sheridan

The little baby mice
Live underneath the floor.
In a dark, dark house
That has no hall door.
No hall door?
Then how do they get in?
They squeeze through a little hole.
They’re very, very thin.
No hall door?
Then how do they get out?
Out through the same hole
When pussy’s not about.
And the little baby mice
Have a horrid, horrid time.
With no mud for mud pies
And no trees to climb.
They don’t get any money
They can’t slide down the stairs,
And they never, never, never, NEVER
Say their prayers.

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