Email Poem

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Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

This is Mr. Squeaky, mouse reporter,
squeaking to you from the Swiss cheese quarter,
where the crime bosses will decide the price
you'll have to pay for a provolone slice.

My modest size lets me to infiltrate 
the safe house where they will decide the fate 
of decent queso lovers like you and I - 
oh no - they want to restrict the supply!

Don "Blockhead" Cheddarino, barks and glares
at an aging figure, caught unawares,
Gouda Bidini, aged not to perfection,
"Our common goal, deplete the deli section."

What will they do with the power they seize?
Good people, they will take away our cheese! 

They'll attack all of us midnight snackers.
They'll take away the brie for our crackers!
This, friends and viewers, is no baloney -
no more cheddar for our macaroni!
We'll take a bite, and we'll sit and stare 
when our grilled-cheese sandwich is filled with air.
They're going to agree to a treaty:
no more mozzarella for baked ziti.
We need something stretchy on pizza pie -
a serious case for the FBI.  
Better bring in J Cheddar Hoover fast.
My appetite's going nuts - I won't last.

This has been your intrepid mouse reporter, 
and aspiring exquisite cheese importer. 
Good night and good luck.  You think this is so dumb?
Wait 'til you see me in my next po-em.

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