Sugar And Spice And Fourteen Blind Mice
Sugar and Spice and fourteen blind mice
sat in a room way up in the barn.
the name of the cat was Sugar and Spice
fourteen blind mice, they were spinning a yarn.
As you can picture, the odds were unfair,
though none of the mice had been overly wise
a mad starving hunter to sit there and stare
planning the strategy of a surprise.
How can a cat catch so many at once?
Only with claws and a growling old gut
cats do not utilise swords, spears and guns
this one just sat on her soft furry butt.
The night was soon over and all things were the same
all the mice had been snoozing, unaware of the foe
in the cold of the morning now the cat sought to aim
its formidable powers like a young feline pro.
But a god now took mercy and he told all the mice
that united you stand and divided you fall,
so they jumped on the cat, and they squeezed like a vise
and the end of the frenzy wasn't pretty at all.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Related quotes
Three blind mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run!
They all run after the farmer's wife,
And she cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did ever you see such a thing in your life
As three blind mice!
poem by Beatrix Potter
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Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
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Three Mice Who Hoped
Six mice stared out their door.
The Cat was crouching there.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
“The Dog will come and scare it away! ”
But one mouse ran out, gave up.
In the jaws of Cat he died.
Five mice stared out their door.
Still the feline purred.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
”The Dog will be here soon! ”
But one mouse could wait no more.
In the jaws of Cat she died.
Four mice stared out their door.
The Cat was waiting for them, too.
“Have… hope…” one said.
But one mouse snapped and darted out.
And soon, in jaws of Cat, was dead.
Three mice stared out their door.
The Cat sat ready, claws extended.
“Have… h-hope…” one said.
But one mouse squealed and started –
The one who’d spoken held her down.
“Have hope! ”
For hours more the three mice sat.
The watched, trembling, the mighty Cat.
But still: “Have hope! ” they cried.
Then came the Dog.
The Cat scurried away to hide.
The mice were free at last.
poem by Sophia White
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We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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The talking animal's
As I become, a fictitious narrative.
Creating a fable story, about a dog, cat and a mice.
The dog name Bog, the cat name Spat, and the mice is Spice.
Bog said to Spat, why are you chasing Spice?
Spat said, because, I want some of that rodent slice's.
So, you want to cut him into piece's.
I am hungry, Bog! Spice come to me, I protect you?
Okay Bog, I hope you really, going to protect me.
Spat get back, please! I don't want to hurt you?
So you think im a cat; I can't beat you?
We going to find out, Spat the big alley cat.
Bog the little mutt; you a bluff Bog.
Spat, end up, chasing the both of them.
poem by Derrick Clark
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The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, 'Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice.'
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, 'O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Bag Of Mice
I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.
poem by Nick Flynn
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Here! Here...You Take The Cheese
Mice like rats and slick napping cats,
Only appear to do as they please...
When it is believed the coast is clear,
To re-energize their determined activities.
Only when they are unmistakably trapped,
Do mice and rats feel the penetrating claws...
Of those one eye opening awakening cats,
With a squealing of their innocence.
'Here! Here...
You take the cheese.
I'm on a diet anyway.
I was only in your neighborhood,
Seeking a way to cement new friendships.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Live Not Being Bothered
Mice cannot live where cats will not enter.
Mice do not abandon feeding and mating
Because there's a threat from the predators.
Let me live my life, not being bothered.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Here's to the Mice!
(Written with the hope that the socialists might yet dethrone Kaiser and Czar.)
Here's to the mice that scare the lions,
Creeping into their cages.
Here's to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here's to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here's to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here's to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain's groans.
Here's to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Mouse Trap
Little mice running all around looking for a bite to eat.
Claw each other, hiss angrily, beg with squeaks, and listen to your small fading heartbeat.
Blind, blind, silly little mice. Smell the food, it's plentiful in the distance, within the real world.
However, you stayed put as the mouse trap was built, all around you.
Content with the meager meals they threw to you.
Now, watch your families starve. See the laughing venomous head of the snake, as it eats you one by one…until you're all gone.
poem by Midnight Writer
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Mice take over the Bundestag
Mice take over the Bundestag
Seeking refuge from the cold snap
In the country's parliament building
Here the mice have found a safe haven
Elsewhere in the city
More than a hundred brave hardy people
Enter a hole cut from the crust
Of Lake Oranke
All part of an annual tradition
Is this Ice-Swimming celebration
During the chill of an arctic wind
Which embraces all of Berlin
Meanwhile the Bundestag mice
Forthwith have been advised
To abandon their newfound haven
Or else face extermination
© Calac
In Berlin, even the mice were desperate to escape the cold: swarms of them have taken over the Bundestag, the country’s parliament, the daily newspaper Bild reported.
But more than 100 people jumped into a hole in the ice at Oranke Lake as part of an annual Berlin ice-swimming festival
poem by Chris Lane
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Sugar Mice
(fish, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley)
I was flicking through the channels on the tv
On a sunday in milwaukee in the rain
Trying to piece together conversations
Trying to find out where to lay the blame
But when it comes right down to it theres no use trying to pretend
For when it gets right down to it theres no one here thats left to blame
Blame it on me, you can blame it on me
Were just sugar mice in the rain
I heard sinatra calling me through the floorboards
Where you pay a quarter for a partnership in rhyme
To the jukebox crying in the corner
While the waitress is counting out the time
For when it comes right down to it theres no use trying to pretend
For when it gets right down to it theres no one really left to blame
Blame it on me, you can blame it on me
Were just sugar mice in the rain
cause I know what I feel, know what I want I know what I am
Daddy took a raincheck
Cos I know what I want, know what I feel I know what I need
Daddy took a raincheck, your daddy took a raincheck
Aint no one in here thats left to blame but me
Blame it on me, blame it on me
Well the toughest thing that I ever did was talk to the kids on the phone
When I heard them asking questions I knew that that you were all alone
Cant you understand that the government left me out of work
I just couldnt stand the looks on their faces saying, what a jerk
So if you want my address its number one at the end of the bar
Where I sit with the broken angels clutching at straws and nursing our scars
Blame it on me, blame it on me
Sugar mice in the rain
Your daddy took a raincheck, your daddy took a raincheck
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Epicure
Should you preserve white mice in honey
Don't use imported ones from China,
For though they cost you less in money
You'll find the Japanese ones finer.
But if Chinese, stuff them with spice,
Which certainly improves their savour,
And though the Canton mice are nice,
The Pekinese have finer flavour.
If you should pickle bracken shoots
The way the wily Japanese do,
Be sure to pluck then young - what suits
Our Eastern taste may fail to please you.
And as for nettles, cook them well;
To eat them raw may give you skin-itch;
But if you boil them for a spell
They taste almost as good as spinach.
So Reader, if you chance to be
Of Oriental food a lover,
And care to share a meal with me,
I'll add the addled eggs of plover;
And gaily I will welcome you
To lunch within an arbour sunny,
On nettle broth and bracken stew.
And nice white mice, conserved in honey.
poem by Robert William Service
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Mice versus rats
I'm not for spending money or traveling abroad, but when I opened
the drawer, at the bottom of my desk, it was full of tiny mice, nesting
on my check- book, since I hadn't opened for years; they had eaten
my passport too, and a couple of poems I thought were too racy to be
published.22 mice smaller than a baby's thumb confused in the glare
of light the creatures thought my fingers were other mice when I tried
to retrieve my check book- and out of date my passport.
Closed the drawer to the mice's delight, thought it had been a deviation,
got hold of a tin bucket opened the drawer again and put them all in there,
yes, even the babies- there are times in life when one can show no mercy-
my intention was to drown them, but could not, their struggle to climb up
the bucket must be honored. At night I let them free on the sandy lane.
When I opened the drawer next day a big rat sat there, bit my finger it had
stolen my credit card…. Now, how do you explain that to a bank manager?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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