I have a little mouse called Arthur <br /> Who gnaws away inside my bones <br /> He is armed with sharp incisors <br /> And metal claws on all his toes. <br /> <br /> Today was warm, so Arthur rested <br /> Silly me, I thought he slept <br /> Then, just as I felt complacent <br /> From his hidey-hole he crept. <br /> <br /> He's gone to stir up his relations <br /> They're scattered all about my frame <br /> Every year his clan increases <br /> I know them, every-one, by name. <br /> <br /> Arthur lives high in my neckbone <br /> He scrambles up and down my spine <br /> Neville nests in my right shoulder <br /> On the other perches Constantine. <br /> <br /> My hands and feet are full of mouselets <br /> In my elbows reside Nan and Nell <br /> My knees are getting overcrowded <br /> There's a nesting shortage, I can tell; <br /> <br /> 'Cos sometimes Arthur's awfully angry <br /> Then daft ideas get in his head <br /> He bites through my electric cables <br /> And makes my arms and legs go dead. <br /> <br /> But, I haven't got much time for doctors <br /> Dispensing pills and quaint advice <br /> Conjuring up obscure diseases <br /> When I know it's just my mice.<br /><br />Irene C S ClarkHogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-degenerate-mouse-called-arthur/
