THE THREE LITTLE MICE
By Josie Whitehead
Deep within an English wood,
Beneath a tall green tree,
Lived little Minnie Woodmouse
And her family of three:
There was Freddie Mouse, Billie Mouse
And sister Jenny too,
And the story that I'll tell you now
Is absolutely true.
It was on a sunny August day
Whilst playing by a stream,
They saw a lively character
Dressed in a coat of green.
He was dancing on the river bank
In dainty little clogs.
When the mice asked: 'Who are you?'
He said: 'My name is Frog.'
They saw a farm across the field
And here the three mice strayed
And in the pleasant summer sun
For many hours they played.
An animal, quite pink and fat,
Performed a lively jig.
Then with a grunt he proudly said:
'The farmer calls me Pig.'
A threatening cloud came in the sky.
'Will there be a storm?'
'Come, hurry to the farmer’s barn.
We must stay dry and warm.'
The farmer’s cat came in the barn
And soon put paid to that.
Oh, they didn’t wait to ask him
If his name was Pussy Cat.
Their Mum had warned them of this cat,
And off they quickly ran.
'Come, let’s get home to Mummy Mouse
As swiftly as we can.'
She asked them what they’d done and seen
And if they'd had some fun.
They told her of the farmer’s cat
And how they’d had to run.
'Cats,' said Mum, 'are dangerous
To all we tiny mice.
They hide and then they pounce on us.
Oh no! That isn’t nice.'
'Tomorrow you stay in our wood.
There’s much to do and see,
But beware of Mr Tawny Owl
Who lives up in the tree.'
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