Related quotes: The mouse run 'round the...

Round The Corner

The mouse run 'round the corner
The mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
an' straight off down the hall.

Pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
by the light of day, she run.

Her putty tail aflying
a putty tail aflyin'
her putty tail aflying
dividin' the hurryscurry air.

She vanish in the floor shine
he vanish in the floor shine
they vanish in the floor shine
and into the puddle sun.

We laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
and all the day before.

And all the day before, now
and all the day before, now
and all the day before, at how
folk will flock to sales.

The mouse run 'round the corner
the mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
and straight off up the hall.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes

Once Upon A Time

A hungry mouse was looking for cheese
Anything, fat free, blue vein, or cheddar would please,
So out of is little hole he stepped an'
Blow me down with a feather
He bumped into a lump of cheddar
Alas it was covered by the tail of a sleeping kitten
So round to its face he went where he could be bitten
Then OMG he gave the little kitten a kiss
Who intern awoke and cried 'What oh what is this,
You gave me a kiss wow from a little mouse,
This is lovely for we both live in the same house! '
Exclaimed the mouse 'May I have that little cheese under your tail'
'Of course you can my friend, let's make this a happy ending tale.

poem by Ken e Hall
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Alankar (Decor) -32

Chase (Rondeau Redoubled)

I won't let you go out o' little mouse
Shall see to it once and all for today
You run run-I run run-round round the house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today

Here I keep the trap to trap and dismay
Sugared magic sure you're fooled o'poor mouse
Cunning you think? brainy you think? ..today
I won't let you go out o' little mouse

Fought, caught, taught to rot petty petty mouse
Bitter squeaks, what a pest, what a hell, hey
Snouty mouse, messy beast, out from this house
Shall see to it once and all for today

May foe feline be fed on you today
Be hooked and thrown-that I shall venge you mouse
Ha, ha, ha then shall all end just today
You run run-I run run-round round the house

No reason, no season, no taste o' mouse
krrkk, krrkk-nibbling all things, all time whole day
Like thief hide and steal you do in my house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today

Here is the trap for your best goal today
Slip in soundless for the 'masaal' o'mouse
I'm sure you will tempted fall but at bay
Thrown awed by foe feline outside the house
I won't let you

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Hymn To Black Mouse

in praise of cold
beauty which cares
not whether one
suffers, cares not
that the mouse may
suffer, and the dove,

that the mouse,
objectively,
its black fur,
is magnificence
very soft, it
appears without
shine as does the
ice shine in
severest beauty
sear (now I know
the flash sure was
that of a tail, is
neither light nor
shadow, nor is an
occasion for blindness
as is the snow

or silence)

poem by Warren Falcon
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A Mouse Is Killed Today

a mouse is killed today
by an artist
who got mad because
the mouse ate his painting
of the nude woman

that evening while he got so furious
the mouse was at his hole
on the floor eating his usual cheese

the artist mumbled and murmured
and grumbled
and the mouse heard it
and called it
slapstick poetry
a doggerel,

the artist was not able to hold his temper
anymore

got an armalite and shot the hole with the mouse in it

in the name of art
the artist invokes his right to kill the mouse

he says it was
' clearly an artistic expression
and protected by the First Amendment.'

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Missing

Has anybody seen my mouse?

I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?

Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?

Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...

Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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a mouse teaches Diogenes

You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.

So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher? ”

“A mouse was my teacher, ” says Diogenes.

You are quite confused. And you say: 'A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? '

“Well, most exquisite Sir, ” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir, ” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this? ’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem? ’ He would bite…”

You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher? ”

poem by Raj Arumugam
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A Baby In The House

I knew that a baby was hid in that house,
Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry;
But the husband was tip-toeing 'round like a mouse,
And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby;
And there was a look on the face of the mother,
That I knew could mean only one thing, and no other.

The mother, I said to myself, for I knew
That the woman before me was certainly that;
And there lay in a corner a tiny cloth shoe,
And I saw on a stand such a wee little hat;
And the beard of the husband said, plain as could be,
'Two fat chubby hands have been tugging at me.'

And he took from his pocket a gay picture-book,
And a dog that could bark, if you pulled on a string;
And the wife laid them up with such a pleased look;
And I said to myself, 'There is no other thing
But a babe that could bring about all this, and so
That one thing is in hiding somewhere, I know.'

I stayed but a moment, and saw nothing more,
And heard not a sound, yet I know I was right;
What else could the shoe mean that lay on the floor,
The book and the toy, and the faces so bright;
And what made the husband as still as a mouse?
I am sure, very sure, there's a babe in that house.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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In Your Corner

I hear tell theres big fun tonigh
On the corner of main and dog-meat-bite
Friday midnights would not be right
Without redds hot party and a nasty fight
But Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant renege cause its goin be live
Fine women, lots of liquor and stuff for your mind
Now where were goin they dont like your kind
But theyll cool when you tell them youre a friend of mine
cause Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant tell your pa and mama
Where were goin til after weve been there
cause that might make their poor heads worry
And worrying can cause grey hair
And one thing just might lead to another
And if theres any trouble theyll blame it on me
I think we just might have two to go
The prettys lookin over here from the middle of the floor
Well make a b-line to hotel la sin
Where youll do the talkin to get us in
And Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
We shoulda been long gone cause this place is hot
cause in the corner there are two brothers who are undercover cops
If they stop us for questioning mum is the word
cause a question not answered is a answer not heard
And Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
Ill be in your corner
Ill be in your corner, if they do
You cant tell your pa and mama
Where were goin til after weve been there
cause that might make their poor heads worry
And worrying can cause grey hair
And one thing just might lead to another
And if theres any trouble theyll blame it on me

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City Mouse And The Garden Mouse

The city mouse lives in a house; -
The garden mouse lives in a bower,
He's friendly with the frogs and toads,
And sees the pretty plants in flower.

The city mouse eats bread and cheese; -
The garden mouse eats what he can;
We will not grudge him seeds and stalks,
Poor little timid furry man.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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"Ole" Baugh Road

Round Ole Baugh Road its a great place kids to grow
Some grow up and move away
Most of us decide to stay
Round the oleBaugh Road
Hard working mom and dad
Gve us things that they never had
I our corner of the world
Romance is slow for the boys and girls
Round the ole Baugh Road
The neighborhood still looks the same
just new kids with the same old names
My Baugh Roads in a southern state
Yours may be anywhere, USA
Look around ole Baugh Road.
I see the kids on Ole Baugh Road
I see the glory of the future glow
Look to the Heavens and give a shout
Like my daddy did when he started out.
Round, round, round the ole Baugh Road,
Round, round, round,
Round, round, round
Round, round, round,
The OleBaugh Road
Round, round, round,
Round, round, round...

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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... & The Mouse Police Never Sleeps

Muscled, black with steel-green eye
Swishing through the rye grass
With thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie.
Tail balancing at half-mast.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.
Look out, little furry folk!
Hes the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
Leaves the others on the mat.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Waiting by the cellar door.
Window-box town crier;
Birth and death registrar.
With claws that rake a furrow red ---
Licensed to multilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
To dawn patrol on hungry hate.
...no, the mouse police never sleeps ---
Climbing on the ivy.
Windy roof-top weathercock.
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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...and The Mouse Police Never Sleeps

Muscled, black with steel-green eye
Swishing through the rye grass
With thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie.
Tail balancing at half-mast.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
Leaves the others on the mat.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Waiting by the cellar door.
Window-box town crier;
Birth and death registrar.
With claws that rake a furrow red ---
Licensed to multilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
To dawn patrol on hungry hate.
...no, the mouse police never sleeps ---
Climbing on the ivy.
Windy roof-top weathercock.
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Around the corner

I wont tell you the stories he has told me,
or the reason why for weeks and months
he couldn't sleep.
About the walk around the corner,
he kept walking round that corner,
walking round that corner
for days and months and weeks.
That isn't my story to tell you, only his;
but I can tell you that he walks around
that corner through his days
and through his weeks.
I can tell you that he marched them home
leading from the front,
right down through the Guildhall
to the sound of thudding drum.
I can tell you that he marched all those
young boys home.
All of them, but one.

poem by Diana Rosser
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Max Ernst

In one corner agile incest
Turns round the virginity of a little dress
In one corner sky released
leaves balls of white on the spines of storm.
In one corner bright with all the eyes
One awaits the fish of anguish.
In one corner the car of summer’s greenery
gloriously motionless forever.

In the glow of youth
lamps lit too late.
The first one shows her breasts that kill the insects that are red

poem by Paul Eluard
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The Black House On The Corner

I passed by that house everday,
wondering what lurked inside of it,
was their some kind of ancient evil inside,
or a normal family that we never saw,

a house of macarbe,
it was painted black like the devil's sin,
it was surrouned by devilish-looking,
figures that stood outside on the line,
was also surrounded by a black pointed fence,

rumors of the devil himself living there,
the devil in the flesh,
satan living on my street corner,
The black house on the corner,

can't you see it,
you must walk past it everyday to,
dosen't your mind wander,
when you walk by The black house,
don't you to know what lays inside of the house,
maybe a ton of dead bodies under the floor boards,
a madman butcherd up his family,

could that be true,
or are our young minds racing again,
with impure and insane thoughts about,
who or what lives in the black house on the corner,
the black house,
painted with the devil's sin,

We were told to stay away from the black house,
that so many evils lived inside of it,
but us being kids we didn't want to live,
we wanted to see what was inside of the black house on the corner,

But we are to afraid to go forward,
we are to afraid to step through the gate,
and walk up the beaten path to the door bell,
it looks so old and so evil,
The black house on the corner,
we shall never know what evilness,
or what macabre force resides within,

the black house on the corner,
whatever you do,
don't go into the black house on the corner,
stay away from,
the black house on the corner,
it holds so many evils,
the black house on the corner,

poem by Robert Rumery
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John Gorham

“Tell me what you’re doing over here, John Gorham,
Sighing hard and seeming to be sorry when you’re not;
Make me laugh or let me go now, for long faces in the moonlight
Are a sign for me to say again a word that you forgot.”—

“I’m over here to tell you what the moon already
May have said or maybe shouted ever since a year ago;
I’m over here to tell you what you are, Jane Wayland,
And to make you rather sorry, I should say, for being so.”—

“Tell me what you’re saying to me now, John Gorham,
Or you’ll never see as much of me as ribbons any more;
I’ll vanish in as many ways as I have toes and fingers,
And you’ll not follow far for one where flocks have been before.”—

“I’m sorry now you never saw the flocks, Jane Wayland,
But you’re the one to make of them as many as you need.
And then about the vanishing. It’s I who mean to vanish;
And when I’m here no longer you’ll be done with me indeed.”—

“That’s a way to tell me what I am, John Gorham!
How am I to know myself until I make you smile?
Try to look as if the moon were making faces at you,
And a little more as if you meant to stay a little while.”—

“You are what it is that over rose-blown gardens
Make a pretty flutter for a season in the sun;
You are what it is that with a mouse, Jane Wayland,
Catches him and lets him go and eats him up for fun.”—

“Sure I never took you for a mouse, John Gorham;
All you say is easy, but so far from being true
That I wish you wouldn’t ever be again the one to think so;
For it isn’t eats and butterflies that I would be to you.”—

“All your little animals are in one picture—
One I’ve had before me since a year ago to-night;
And the picture where they live will be of you, Jane Wayland,
Till you find a way to kill them or to keep them out of sight.”—

“Won’t you ever see me as I am, John Gorham,
Leaving out the foolishness and all I never meant?
Somewhere in me there’s a woman, if you know the way to find her.
Will you like me any better if I prove it and repent?”—

“I doubt if I shall ever have the time, Jane Wayland;
And I dare say all this moonlight lying round us might as well
Fall for nothing on the shards of broken urns that are forgotten,
As on two that have no longer much of anything to tell.”

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Cheap socks

oh, these chinese socks
spic and span at the store
they have the touch of
a hubby's smartness
and shilling cheap
now after two wearings
and one washing
they perch on the floor
each a mouse
small, black and round
turning rebels
refusing to take
any of your errands
fingers or foot

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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