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I’m not a *'timorous little beastie'
     Who runs away and hides,
But a plastic-shelled and busy mouse
     Sitting by man’s side.

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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.

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I’ve often heard it plainly said
     That a dog is man’s best friend.
This can’t be true for surely I
     Get the time my master spends.

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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.

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Copyright on all my poems

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* To a Mouse by Robert Burns

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Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie, 
O, what a panic's in thy breastie! 

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* timorous - easily frightened . . . . . as I am when a big spider runs across the floor, hmmm  What about you?

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