Best Mouser Poems
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.
There was a young feline named Jackson,
Who wanted a piece of the action.
While hunting for rats, Jack
Got into a spat, with a strange little
Creature known to us as a bat.
This then is the fact of the matter.
The bat proved as 'mad as a hatter'.
And it paid with it's life,
Causing Jackson much strife:
Bad luck for the poor little ratter.
They arrested the cat in a hurry
And woe to this poor furry purry.
Without even a trial, he was put on 'The Mile'
Where his life became drab and quite dreary.
Jack's been sitting there day after day,
Quite bored and just pining away.
While dreaming of mousies and birds on the wing,
Of hair balls and catnip and such kitty things.
"How long, oh how long must I pay?
Please won't someone just whisk me away?
Back to my home where a kitty can roam
And stay out-of-doors all live, long day."
The end of this tale I hope tell,
Will find Jack finally leaving his cell,
To be welcomed back home, once again
Free to roam, older and wiser and well.
"No more bats for this cat", Jackson moans.
And it seems that he's learned on his own:
It's far better than not, to keep up with ones shots,
Than call three feet of jail space your home!
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
. Mouser.
The distillery cat was flat on his back
He’d had too much to drink.
The silly moggy his mind was foggy
He could hardly think.
It was thee day he was on his way
His time was really up.
The rules require he must retire
So he had drunk from the goodbye cup!
Those little mice they didn’t think twice
they quickly ran amok
And in no time felt quite sublime
Could not believe their luck!
Tails in the air, Mouser so unaware
Their party had began.
For life’s a must, much was discussed
Like an employee ownership plan.
“Imagine if, Mouser was a stiff
And we all ruled this place,
By and large we’d be in charge
Something we could all embrace.”
But just at that appeared a Rat,
You know what they all say.
You’re never more than through a door
Away from their decay.
“Well gee whiz, so what is this
We have an open house.”
He said with grin, “I’ll just move in
And go and get my spouse.”
The mice felt down and wore a frown
And thought we can’t have this,
Awake that cat from off his mat
Get him out his drunken bliss.
So it was to great applause
He had ended up quite upset,
They’d got the hose and gave a dose
Of water cold and wet!
Mouser howled then he scowled
Jumped up and cried aloud,
“I’ll get those mice they are my vice
They will end up in a shroud.”
The mice did flee with so much glee
The Rat it disappeared.
Mousers head felt like stale bread
His paws they went real weird.
And so it was, like an arbitration clause
Came in the Big Bad Boss.
“What’s all this noise I don’t enjoys,
I prefer a hearing loss!”
So Mouser stayed, a big blockade
And the mice he tipped a wink,
The big brown Rat, he don’t like a cat
That’s had too much to drink!
Now drink can make you think
It can feel good alright.
Whiskey can make you frisky
But it can also make you fight!
For a Scottish cat enjoys combat
As much as a Father loves his daughter,
Although there is a cure,
maybe it is obscure,
We could of course add water!
Dark coal mouser’s prowl
in blue moon haunt, spooky screech
poor thing sees a ghost
Posted : April 5th 2022
The Mouser
I friend of mine has an old moggy she says
help her to write successful books about suburban life,
big gardens and flowers; envious I tried to find
A cat had seen one outside the apartment building.
grabbed it and scratched but when I hit the pus
over the head with a stone until it lies still in my hands.
Next morning I fed it and gave it water the tabby had
left a pile on my Persian rug, while cleaning the mess
The feline sent an email to the protection of animals
and signed it with a paw, this incensed me so much
I threw the cat out.
A knock on my door it was the cat people about an email
I have no cat; they sniffed around not convinced, left.
In the evening a scratching on my door I knew it was
the bloody moggy, people knock on doors, opened it
slightly told it to off, you said on me!
The cat said it was hungry and had nowhere to sleep,
but shut the door in its face I heard it take the lift down.
Next day I found the cat sleeping in a card box in
the garage I reversed the car to scare it, but it ran out
spat: “I will report you, you heartless brute.”