Twas the night before Christmas
Where all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Except, the damn mouse!
It ran to the stocking
And ate out a hole
Clambered over the hearth
And dumped a doozy-trail
The Children has nestled
Seemingly, safe in their beds
While mus musculus went sniffing
And pooped on their heads
Nothing was sacred
Nothing was safe
It drank of the milk
And devoured cookies, apace
The pudding, the candy
The bows tied, just-so
This creature did rampage
Its teeth, all aglow
The very next day, did Mary-Anne arise
Full of good cheer and with hope in her eyes
Yet, as she turned to survey the rot and decay
A cry did escape her, of utter dismay
Was the day of the Christmas
Where all through the house
Every last creature was stirring
With designs, on a mouse.
