The Odd-Looking Mouse

Behind the old farmhouse and down by the meadow,

Where the clover grows tall and the daisies are yellow,

Not far from the stream where the air smells nice,

There lived an enormous family of mice.

 

A hundred mouse brothers and sisters and cousins,

All gathered food and looked after each other,

They all played together and sang and had fun,

They all felt accepted, that is, all but one.

 

Benny the mouse was not quite like the others,

He stood out as different because of his colour,

The mice all had thick brown fur that would shine,

But Benny’s was white and coarse and fine.

 

And the way he would act kind of came off as crazy,

He slept in the day and it made him seem lazy,

So the way he was treated by some mice was harsh,

Some mice would avoid him and some would just laugh.

 

Then one day a few of his family, not many,

Gathered for afternoon tea and called Benny,

He came in and looked round the room in fear,

And said, “What exactly is going on here?”

 

“Why did you send someone over to get me?

All of this mocking is cruel and upsetting,

I know I look different but I’m still just like you,

Don’t judge my appearance, you’ll see it is true.”

 

His family said, “Benny, we’re not here to judge you,

We all came today to show you we love you,

We don’t mean to scare you, that’s not our intention,

Our dear brother Benny, this is an intervention.”

 

It was known from the farmhouse down to the paddock,

That Benny the mouse was a heroin addict,

It had ruined his teeth and stunted his tail,

It was the reason his fur was so thin and so pale.

 

Slowly but surely the drugs warped his senses,

’Til any denial of this was defenceless,

Though the proof was there and the verdict was in,

His problem was not one he’d ever admit.

 

“I can’t believe you would all do this,” said Benny,

“My own flesh and blood have now all turned against me.

You’re wasting my time, you’re nothing but fools,”

With that, Benny turned round and ran from the room.

 

This reaction from Benny was not unexpected,

The mice only hoped he would not feel rejected,

For three days nobody saw Benny the mouse,

So a few of his brothers went out to his house.

 

They got through the door by breaking its hinges,

And when they went in they saw the syringes,

A gaunt and pale little body was found,

It belonged, of course, to Benny the mouse.

 

His brothers all carried him out to the meadow,

Where the clover grows tall and the daisies are yellow,

They buried him there in the old willow’s shade,

And his sisters all knelt and wept at his grave.

 

© 2018 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

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