I’m not a *'timorous little beastie'
Who runs away and hides,
But a plastic shelled and busy mouse
Sitting by man’s side.
I do not need your bread and cheese
To keep me fit and well
Or, as other mice, must hunt to find
A home in which to dwell.
I’ve often heard it plainly said
That a dog is man’s best friend.
Tthis can’t be true for surely I
Get time my master spends.
A man and mouse so bound together
Is beyond all comprehension,
For his cat or dog would be in heaven
To get so much attention.
Copyright on all my poems
Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!