Mouser Jill

Jack and our Jill went up the hill And there she broke her water. She laid right down upon the ground and bore them both a daughter. Poor Jack, undone, had hoped a son; their marriage, it was fleeting. In deep despair, fell down the stair, and there his heart stopped beating. But life goes on, so Jill wed John; and they too raised a daughter. A giant mouse broke in the house, ate all their cheese and got her. Off on a quest, John was out west to find work as a double. You might have guessed, Jill, sorely pressed, addressed the rodent trouble. She tracked him down; he’d gone to ground all holed up in his hidey. With daughter there, she must take care: no guns, just nice and tidy. The mouse was sly, he near got by but Jill knew rodents better. And in a snap, she set the trap: herself, all smeared with cheddar. As rodents come, he wasn't dumb but instinct overtook him. Got on his knees to smell that cheese; her big knife arced and hooked him. The mouse now dead, her girl in bed, scanned headlines for a story. There right up front: Failed Movie Stunt the details, rather gory. While filming Wick, John goofed his trick, fell head-long through the rafters. That third time charm raised Jill’s alarms, stayed single ever after.